


Crash Queen

by MKZ4345



Series: Killjoys [2]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Car Accidents, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 09:12:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17915981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MKZ4345/pseuds/MKZ4345
Summary: A fun night turns horrifying. A crash in the gorge sends the Killjoys to the hospital, their newly added front man legless, and everyone else rocked by the trauma. How will the Killjoys rebuild after this tragic accident? What will they do when they need to find Party Poison a new set of legs? Will Ghoul ever trust a car again?(I wish I was good at writing summaries, I promise my writing is better than this.)





	Crash Queen

**Author's Note:**

> I am building muscle by keeping my wrists from touching my computer as I write this. I got wrist tattoos today, a belated birthday present, and I'm super happy but oh my fucking god don't ever get inner wrist tattoos. Worst pain I've ever felt in my life, hands down.
> 
> Anyway, (augh fuck I bumped my wrist) enjoy this! Do it now! This is the longest thing I've ever written and I honestly could have kept going if I hadn't started thinking about how awful this would be to format.

A race through the gorge was a crash queen’s dream. That is to say, it was sure to result in a horrible crash and possibly the death of the person driving. So, naturally, Party Poison was the first to volunteer as a driver in the race. He’d been a closet crash queen ever since they found the trans am, the call of the road - and more specifically the off-road - was almost unbearable at times. Kobra Kid, more of a self-proclaimed “motor baby” (as Dr. Death called it), was only sort of supportive of this tendency. Kobra liked working on cars, but if there was nothing to fix he was often bored. If Poison went off and roughed up the ‘am a bit, he was more than happy to put the piles of scrap in his room to good use. Jet Star thought their brains were a bit off kilter. He didn’t identify as any of the strange identities out in the zones, though Fun Ghoul liked to tease that he was their field medic. Jet would then correct that Show Pony was the only one out of them that could properly reset a limb, and they’d fight about what field medics really need to know. 

In any case, they were all together at the bottom of the gorge on a beautiful night in the zones. The gorge started just barely in Zone 2, running out and splintering through Zone 3 and all the way out into Zone 7. No one really knew was was beyond Zone 7 to the south, mostly because of Dead Man’s Drop, the sheer cliff that ran through some of Zone 6 and most of Zone 7. No one really wanted to know. The gorge cut through Dead Man’s Drop, too, sort of dissolving into hills and then into flat earth that went further than any zoner was willing to go. The night was beautiful, the cars had been “carefully” lowered into the gorge, glow-in-the-dark paint covered everything and everybody, and Party Poison was absolutely glowing. Not only from the paint, mind you. He was so fucking excited to smear these other rats against the walls of the gorge, he’d wanted to race the gorge for years.

The Transistor Sisters had their best driver out today, Royal Roadrunner. Her name came from her undefeated title of Best Driver in the Zones. She had a little crown on her car’s license plate, and a large one on the top of her car. She was the queen of the races. Poison didn’t want to beat her, truthfully. Racing with her was on his bucket list, though. Bonus points if she killed him on the tracks. 

Jet, Kobra, and Ghoul, as per zone tradition, were all in attendance for this race. They were in the pickup truck that belonged to the Birds of Prey. They’d convinced their newest member to join the race, a scrawny kid that called themself Bumble Bee. He drove a yellow sedan, spray painted with the Birds of Prey symbol on all sides.

“We’re about to get this race going!” The speakers from the bottom of the gorge crackled with the volume they were set to. The speaker, the leader of the Transistor Sisters, Betty Bazooka, shouted into her mic to get everyone’s attention. “I need every deadbeat zoner rat out here tonight to show some love for our three drivers tonight!”

The crowds around the Killjoys (minus Poison) cheered from their cars. Ghoul absently bit his nails while watching Poison check his engine with the other drivers. Sportsmanship was nonnegotiable in gorge races. Even though dying in a crash came with the crash queen name, they still wanted to make sure there was no cheating. Cheating resulted in two consecutive things, usually: first, the death of a zoner, second, the death of the cheater. An eye for an eye, as Betty had once snarled into the face of the ritalin rat that had killed the Transistor Sisters’ youngest at the time.

“We’ll get to the introductions soon,” Betty said, walking down from the top of Roadrunner’s car. “Not that you really need them.”

The crowd whooped in agreement.

“But first! A moment, if you will, for the zoners lost this year. We know, you’ve already mourned their losses. The Gallons lost their leader early in the year, as you know all too well. Dracs and a blood obsessed scarecrow.” Betty visibly flinched at the memory. “We lost two of ours, too. Jet-Fuel and Blue Jay, our dear middle children, are sleeping with the Phoenix Witch. Even the Killjoys, though they didn’t lose anyone, they had a too-close call with their newest members, Party Poison and Fun Ghoul. Confrontation with the zones’ most notorious scarecrow, Korse.”

The crowd was silent, watching for black birds.

“Don’t panic, word is that he don’t respond to his name anymore… Could have something to do with the beating that’s reported to come from our first driver tonight,” Betty seamlessly transitioned, spinning to face Poison, “Party Poison of the Killjoys!”

Cheering, whooping, and whistling drowned out any conversation Ghoul was trying to have with Kobra and Jet.

“Our next driver, a newbie to the zones, much like Party Poison, but a regular with cars and using them to run down hordes of dracs, Bumble Bee of the Birds of Prey!”

Ghoul plugged his ears as the Birds screamed for their member, rocking the truck they were sat in.

“And of course, the crowned jewel of the zones, ruler of the streets, absolute madwoman in the sheets,” Betty hung herself over Roadrunner’s shoulder, “and my favorite crash queen to ever exist, also my girlfriend, Royal Roadrunner of the Transistor Sisters!”

Everyone cheered, even the Killjoys. Cheer for the queen, or off with your head. Betty Bazooka did not have that name for nothing.

“Good job! I liked the levels on that ruckus!” Betty giggled as Roadrunner kissed her cheek. “Let’s keep it up to that level all night, alright? Okay, let’s get to the fun part! I’m gonna join you all up there while our drivers get their shit together, and then we can start the race!”

As Betty kissed her girlfriend and then made her way back up to the top of the gorge, the sun was already setting. Ghoul usually liked watching the sunset, but hated watching gorge races after sunset. Whenever someone crashed it was always brighter than the sun in darkness like this. Jet once told Ghoul a story about a crash queen that put fireworks in the back of their car. Jet described it as disturbingly beautiful as he recounted watching the fireworks fly out from the gorge. Ghoul hated the idea that something like that could be beautiful, but knew what he meant.

“Don’t worry,” Kobra said suddenly, elbowing Ghoul’s side.

“What?” Ghoul was snapped out of his thoughts.

“Don’t worry about Poison,” Kobra said. “He may be an idiot, but he’d not going to get himself killed.”

“You don’t know that,” Ghoul said, watching as Poison dipped his finger in more paint to draw an upside down smiley face on the side of the trans am. “Anything could happen.”

“True,” Jet said, leaning back to join their conversation. “But I think Poison’s…”

They watched as Poison stuck the finger with paint on it in his mouth.

“Oh god, he’s going to die,” Ghoul cried, covering his face and falling back onto the bed of the truck.

“Ew,” Jet said.

“Oh gross,” Kobra laughed. “Okay, he might die.”

“I can’t watch this, crash queens make me sick to my stomach.” Ghoul scrubbed at his face in frustration.

“Well, then don’t watch. I can tell you if something happens.” Jet patted Ghoul’s leg beside him. “Like now, Poison is putting the paint away and getting into the car. Oh! He just saw me and waved! Oh god, he stuck his tongue out and it’s all bright green-”

Kobra doubled over laughing.

The gangs around them watched in wonder at this legendary gang. The Killjoys had classically been Kobra Kid and Jet Star, with the occasional appearance of their self proclaimed “secret weapon” Show Pony. The fact that there were now two more members was surprising to the other gangs in the zones, not to mention the speed at which they were added to the Killjoys. The zones still saw Kobra Kid as the leader, though truthfully Dr. Death did most of the work behind the scenes, but Party Poison was gaining popularity with the other gangs.

And this wasn’t something they weren’t aware of. Kobra Kid kept tabs on their appeal in the zones. Being a Killjoy was like being a mercenary, a first responder, and a celebrity all at once. Colors in the zones were popular, Kobra knew that. Lots of gangs had colors, and when talking about colors, they meant hair colors. That was why Kobra had been a bit worried when Poison dyed his hair at first. He would instantly be a zoner of interest. Then, there was the fact that he was a wire, a droid, which further added to his uniqueness and, more importantly, his rarity. Kobra knew there were gross zoners out there who hoarded rarities, and things like outspoken wires and children were among the most rare things in the zones. Kobra liked to call those few diamond smudgers. Dampening the shine of the things that kept the zones glowing.

Kobra was pulled out of his thoughts when the warning horn sounded from the Transistor Sisters’ car.

“We’re down to the minute! Get your cameras ready, rev your engines to cheer them on, and get ready to bathe in the dust of this monumental race!” Betty was sat on top of the Sisters’ car, right next to the new speaker she was hooked up to. “Count with me! Ten!”

“Nine!” 

The crowd was riled up now.

“Eight!”

Ghoul sat up and bit his lip.

“Seven!”

Jet gripped Ghoul’s shoulder.

“Six!”

Kobra took his sunglasses off to see properly after the sun finally fell behind the distant mountains.

“Five!”

The Sisters’ engine started revving, along with the Birds’ and the Gallons’.

“Four!”

The three cars at the bottom of the gorge started and revved with everyone else.

“Three!”

Betty stood on top of the car. 

“Two!”

“Kill ‘em out there, baby!” Betty shouted over the noise. Roadrunner gave her a thumbs-up.

“One!”

“Go, motherfuckers, go!” Betty screamed as the three drivers sped off and kicked up so much dust almost no one could see what was happening.

The Killjoys instinctively all sat up to see where they’d gone. The Birds of Prey started driving off in the direction the race was set for, trying to keep up in order to keep an eye on them. Betty and the other Sisters drove off in front of everyone else, being the holders of the race.

Jet pulled the door of the flatbed up to keep everyone inside. Kobra watched the gorge with more intensity than either of them had ever seen. Great, Ghoul thought, he was nervous too. That was never a good sign.

The race was fast and hard to follow, as per usual for the ones outside the gorge. Occasionally Betty would give an update as to who looked to be in first place. The Killjoys tried not to smile too much when they heard lots of Party Poison’s name in those updates. Not that wining was the point. The Killjoys just wanted him to make it out alive.

Gorge races weren’t usually deadly, but it was like back when there’d be plane crashes, before the zones. Dr. D had told them it was extremely rare that there would be a plane crash, but you’d hear about them all the time whenever they did happen. It made more people afraid to fly than the actual likelihood of mechanical issues would. Gorge race crashes were few and far between, but when one did happen it spread like wildfire. Ghoul thought it was ridiculous. A zoner was more likely to hear about a gorge crash than an accident around Dead Man’s Drop, which was a hot spot for mysterious deaths and crashes.

As the race neared the end, there were less and less updates from Betty, except for the occasional proclamation that Roadrunner was in first.

Ghoul bit his nails as they sped alongside the gorge. The end was near, the dust was still flying, and there was still no update involving Poison. Not that one would necessarily be good right now, since it would most likely be a bad one, but it would be better to know, Ghoul decided.

Jet looked nervous too, which did nothing to slow Ghoul’s heart rate. Kobra was staring into the gorge still.

In the weeks leading up to this race, even up to the invitation, Poison and Kobra had grown pretty close. Jet often called them brothers and even Dr. D agreed. They bonded over cars, comic books, drawing- Kobra was teaching Poison about all kinds of things he’d never been exposed to before, namely art. And Poison fucking loved art. He painted the walls of the diner, the radio station, the gas station in Zone 1- the fucking bathroom. Poison read comic books like they were bibles, learning the lines of his favorite characters and drawing them in a notebook they’d found. He’d even started doing late night comic readings on the radio with Kobra every week, which was quickly becoming a zone favorite. Nowhere near as popular as Dr. D’s show, but popular enough for Show Pony to actually use their mailbox for once. They’d started getting requests again, for music too but mostly comic books to read. Some zoners weren’t able to read and just had comic books for the pictures. Motor babies were starting to learn to read with the help of the comic readings. Morale in the zones was going up, in something Dr. Death had once called “a fucking mystical miracle” on air. The zones were grateful for Party Poison. Kobra was grateful for someone he could comfortably call family in addition to Jet.

So, when the race abruptly ended, Jet and Kobra stood instantly.

“I repeat,” Betty said over the speaker, “the race has ended. We’ve got a crash. Drivers, cut your engines, now.”

Roadrunner was far ahead of the now black cloud behind her, but she cut her engine as soon as she rolled to a stop. Then she flew from her car in a sprint toward the smoke.

Kobra was jumping out of the flatbed before Jet could stop him, so he followed. Ghoul stayed still a moment too long, then cursed himself for it, leaping over the wall of the flatbed and running to the edge of the gorge with the others.

Bumble Bee became visible through the now settling dust, and they were okay.

That left the horrifying and already suspected truth. Ghoul felt his knees buckle as he saw the trans am. It was- he could hardly look. But he did. The front was embedded in a huge rock, the left side mostly affected. Which was very bad. Because these were not European cars they were driving, no, this was California. The driver’s side was crushed from the head on collision with the rock. Kobra was already sliding down the side of the gorge, followed closely by Jet and Ghoul. Ghoul didn’t remember following them, so he assumed he had fallen from shock and somehow it thankfully looked like he was following them.

Roadrunner was pulling hard on the driver’s side door, bracing her foot against the side of the car as she yanked on the door through the broken window, trying to get it open as the cab filled with smoke. The car was either already on fire, or about to be.

Jet aided her quickly, grabbing the crowbar from the trunk and helping her pry the door open. Kobra lurched forward and unbuckled Poison from his seat, stabbing at the airbag with his knife. Poison’s legs were stuck, though. Pinned by the crumpled car.

Ghoul had never seen droid blood, but he had always hoped it was some unnatural color, like green or blue. He was horribly disappointed and disgusted to find it was red. Red, almost sparkling, streaming down Poison’s face from a fresh cut on his forehead, running into his fluttering eyes, from his probably broken nose, staining his gritted teeth, pouring from his midsection-

The car jumped with a small explosion from under the hood, startling everyone and snapping Ghoul out of his trance. Jet repeatedly slammed the crowbar into the debris cutting into Poison’s legs, prying up as much as he could. Kobra was gently pulling Poison from the seat and there was a terrible ripping sound coming from Poison’s midsection.

It was a common misconception that droids didn’t feel pain. They weren’t intentionally built with this “function” but they certainly had it. So, when Poison screamed, it wasn’t for fun. It wasn’t fake. It was guttural, it was tortured, and it sounded horrifyingly metallic, scraped through a damaged vocal processor like a fork on the side of a car.

They worked a bit longer on lifting the parts of the car holding him in place, Kobra refusing to move him again until they were sure he wouldn’t lose his fucking legs. Ghoul was helping now. His hands were shaking, but he was doing his best. 

Eventually they got the gap to be big enough, Kobra was able to slowly and carefully pull Poison from the driver’s seat. Then, they had to move fast. Roadrunner helped them carry Poison to her car, the fastest in the zones. Ghoul didn’t look at the gashes in Poison’s legs, the gaping hole in his stomach, the horrible, glittery red blood that gushed from those places- he swears he didn’t look. He hadn’t meant to.

Jet and Kobra climbed into the back of Roadrunner’s car, something similar to the trans am. It didn’t have a ton of space, but Jet and Kobra tucked their legs under the backs of the front seats and faced the back seats to save room. Ghoul sat in the back left seat and volunteered to help keep Poison awake while they drove to the Oblivion Hotel. Which was far. The race had taken them from Zone 3 all the way into Zone 4 and almost to Zone 5. The Oblivion was all the way smack dab in the middle of the west side of Zone 4. They could try to get to the radio station, which would be closer, but Dr. Death didn’t know how to repair droids, much less did he have droid blood and pressure fluid, which was leaking everywhere from valves and tubes that should never be severed. They had to get to the doctor in the Oblivion.

Roadrunner drove like Party Poison was one of her own, recklessly and faster than she ever had before. Jet and Kobra were pressing slightly dirty rags into the oozing cuts and gashes, not risking fucking up the already too-wide gouge in Poison’s stomach.

“Hey,” Ghoul said, his voice so calm he almost didn’t recognize it as his own voice, “look at me, okay?”

Poison was breathing too fast, freaking out, clearly trying not to freak out. He stared up, scared.

“Just keep watching my face, okay? Don’t move.” Ghoul remembered a long talk Dr. D had had with all of them about droids and their functions. He had told them that putting them “out” (turning off their sensory awareness and leaving them basically comatose) was safe to an extent. This was the limit of that extent. If they put him out now, Poison would almost certainly never wake up again.

Poison coughed suddenly, spraying blood onto Ghoul’s face, then looking scared and sorry.

“Don’t worry about it, just keep focusing on me. Don’t move,” Ghoul repeated, eyes flickering to Jet as he tore off part of a new cloth to tie around a cut on Poison’s arm. “We’re on our way to the Oblivion, it won’t take long.”

Roadrunner drove as fast as she could, expertly weaving down and around the roads that ran through Zone 3 and then back into Zone 4. As the car turned to face north, Ghoul had to gently tap Poison’s face to keep him awake.

“Don’t go out, don’t sleep,” Ghoul said, pulling Poison’s consciousness back. “I know you want to sleep, I know, but you can’t yet. Please.”

Poison made a noise, a grossly inhuman one that Ghoul never wanted to hear again. Kobra finally started placing rags over Poison’s stomach. Jet tried to find anything else to do.

“Look at me. Count my eyelashes. I know you can see them all, your weird eyes can see a lot more than mine can.” Ghoul tried to be teasing but his tone was too serious. Nonetheless, Poison huffed a laugh.

Roadrunner was slowing down, the sign that they were close to the Oblivion. Jet was gathering the soiled rags as Kobra kept pressing down on the biggest wound.

“We’re going to move soon,” Ghoul said, watching with a small relieved smile as Poison mouthed numbers. “Sixty-seven already?”

Poison huffed again, this time spitting up some blood, but continued to count.

“We’re moving now.”

Roadrunner had parked and was pulling open the back door. They all fumbled to get Poison out of the car, with much protest from Poison. Jet ran inside to call for help and soon there was a gurney clattering out onto the pavement.

The next hour was a blur for Ghoul, mostly because he watched Poison get taken away and didn’t have a job anymore. He wasn’t allowed back with them, neither were Kobra, Jet, and Roadrunner. The nurse that worked with the doctor assured them that he was in good hands and offered them blankets and coffee.

At some point somebody sat Ghoul down with a cup of coffee and a blanket around his shoulders. He was staring at the door they’d taken Poison behind. He didn’t know what he was feeling other than panic. But after about two hours, all he felt was exhausted. The coffee wasn’t helping anymore. Kobra was pacing, as he had been for the last hour. Jet was talking with Roadrunner about something. The nurses came in every now and then to update them. 

“He’s doing great,” is what they’d usually say.

“He’s safely asleep now,” one said, meaning that they’d stabilized his blood levels and letting them all finally breathe.

“The doctor’s almost done,” the last two had said.

Ghoul watched as people moved behind the door through the small frosted window. His eyes could barely stay open.

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because he remembers opening his eyes to Jet laughing especially loudly with Roadrunner. Other people were there now, too. Betty Bazooka was wrapped around her girlfriend and surrounded by the Sisters. The Birds were there, too, talking with the Sisters and Jet. Kobra was still pacing, but now he was talking with Bumble Bee. The Gallons were there too, they kept coming in and out of the room. Ghoul watched them for a while before he felt someone sit next to him. The second he saw their face he gasped.

“Show Pony?” Ghoul instantly hugged them, realizing someone must have taken his coffee away from him.

“Hey, little monster,” Show Pony said, smiling. “We were kinda worried about you for a minute.”

“What? Worried about me?” Ghoul pulled back from their hug and looked confused. “Why would you be worried about me? Poison’s the one who-…”

“Because, you were one of the ones who got him here,” Show Pony said. As they spoke, they pulled out a napkin that was probably from one of the nurses and wiped his face.

“You’ve got blood all over your face, you know.”

“Oh.” Ghoul had forgotten. Now, he vividly remembered how it had gotten there. He shivered involuntarily, making Show Pony frown.

“Sorry, don’t think about it.” They finished wiping off his face and tutted. “I just kinda… smeared it around. You should wash your face, honey.”

“Okay.” Ghoul sighed and stood slowly. He was dizzy but he didn’t know why.

Even though Show Pony had meant to send him alone, they followed him to the bathroom out of habit. Ghoul was out of it, they could tell that much. How out of it was the question. As he started to wash his face, Show Pony got a pretty clear idea of how out of it he was as he slowed to a stop with his hands under the water, staring past the mirror and wobbling on his feet. Show Pony gave him a few minutes before he slowly started moving again, bringing his face down and splashing water over it. Then, he stood still for a moment before quickly turning around and opening one of the bathroom stalls and leaning over the toilet there.

He wasn’t throwing up, not yet, but he was breathing fast and holding his chest. Show Pony held his shoulder with one hand and rubbed his back with the other. Slowly, he came down from his panic and started shaking slightly.

“Oh, honey,” Show Pony sighed, hugging him. “We’ll get to see him soon, I know it.”

Ghoul slowly came back to himself, having gotten lost in a daydream - day nightmare, more like it - of watching the crash again. He was crying on Show Pony’s shoulder, trying to forget the sickening image of Poison’s stomach ripping open to expose the machinery underneath his strong skin, the sparkling, glittery blood that poured out onto everything, the sound- the sound he made-

“Ghoul.” Show Pony was talking to him. “Sweet, please, come back to me.”

He blinked and shook his head, focusing on Show Pony’s soft hair on his cheek. Show Pony’s grounding arms around his shoulders. Show Pony’s gentle voice that kept him there in the room.

“It’s gonna be okay, let’s go sit you back down.”

They went back to the waiting room, Show Pony careful to make sure Ghoul was fully situated before answering the questions burning behind Kobra’s eyes as he watched.

“He’s definitely been fucked up by it,” Show Pony said, their tone worried. “He had a panic attack in the bathroom, almost threw up. He wasn’t totally there either, you know what I mean?”

“Oh god,” Kobra said, looking to Ghoul. “I mean- I’m not doing great either, but if he’s that bad… What do we do?”

“We just have to be there for him,” Show Pony smiled as he watched Ghoul falling asleep. “I think seeing Poison will help him. And speaking of, how are you doing?”

“Better than him, but worried sick.” Kobra ran a hand through his hair. “I know the doctor is the best- well, only in the zones, I just-”

“Let him do his job,” Show Pony shushed him. “How many cups of coffee have you had?”

“Seven.”

“Oh, you dumbass, go rest.”

“Not tired; seven cups, Pony,” Kobra said, half jokingly.

“Well, the second that wears off, you are resting too.”

“Yes, boss.”

Time passed differently for everyone in the waiting room. To Jet, it wasn’t very long at all before the doctor was walking into the room. To Kobra, it had been an eternity. To Ghoul, he’d been asleep, so it was instant.

“How is he?!” Kobra asked, voice unintentionally frantic.

“He’s doing well,” the doctor said, smiling to the room. “There was a lot to repair, but we managed to get the most important things fixed in time. We’re waiting on him to stabilize a bit more before we wake him back up, but he’s improving as we speak.”

“Oh thank god.” Kobra collapsed to his knees, not realizing how fucking worried he’d been, even when he thought he had.

“Can we see him?” Ghoul asked, standing up.

“He’s not awake, but I don’t see why not.” The doctor nodded as he spoke and stood aside from the door. “I would recommend only a few at a time, though.”

“Let’s go,” Jet said. He got up and took Ghoul’s arm, then Kobra’s.

He practically dragged them down the hall as the waiting room crowd watched with sympathy.

The room Poison was in, basically the makeshift ICU of the Oblivion, had some high-tech hospital equipment, as well as the basics of a hotel room. Heart monitor, minibar, endotracheal tubing going down Poison’s throat, shitty couch in the corner, IV bags with blood and morphine, some nondescript abstract art hanging on the wall… Only at the Oblivion Hotel…

Ghoul wondered why the endotracheal tube and morphine were necessary, but figured he was just ignorant about droid biology. 

No one spoke, mostly because Poison was asleep anyway. Kobra sat down in one of the armchairs next to the hospital bed, and Jet and Ghoul sat together on the couch. Ghoul watched Poison’s face, still worried and having flashbacks. Jet, though, was rubbing his back, which was helpful in keeping him grounded. Kobra yawned, then, and Ghoul knew it was over. He curled up on the couch and watched Kobra fall asleep sitting up. Jet had pulled his legs up onto the couch too, knocking out pretty fast as well. 

They slept for a while. Ghoul had dreams that were strange; mostly just Poison’s face, stoic and neutral, but then blood would leak out of his mouth and eyes and nose and he would scream and-

“Ghoul,” Show Pony called quietly, shaking his shoulder to wake him. “They’re going to wake him up soon.”

Ghoul rubbed his face and sat up. His back felt like shit. This couch was awful. Jet, beside him still, stretched out, making his back crack. Kobra was still asleep, no doubt on purpose. Show Pony stood next to the bed while the nurses came in to take out the tube and wake Poison up.

Ghoul got up too, going to stand with Kobra as he woke up from the noise. None of them could watch them take the tube out, the noise it made was enough to make Jet question wanting to be there at all. 

When the doctor came in to wake him up, he was so casual about it that they almost missed it. No one could miss the noises Poison made the second he woke up though.

“Whoa,” was the first thing he said, then, “ew, my throat hurts.”

Kobra was filled with equal parts relief and disappointment in that second, because he knew exactly what Poison was about to say.

“Hope I didn’t give anyone a blowjob.”

Everyone laughed, even Kobra, though he was mad that he found it funny.

The next couple of hours was filled with Poison telling them to go sleep because they looked like shit and the others ignoring him and making sure he felt okay. The doctor told them he still had to repair the smaller cuts and wounds, but that those could wait until the biogel heals the major wound in Poison’s stomach.

“Biogel?” Ghoul said, trying to distract himself from the memories of Poison getting that wound.

“Yes, it’s this neat gooey stuff that helps bond droid skin back together,” the doctor explained. “It doesn’t work for the inner mechanical parts, but it works wonders to bond their skin back together.”

“Weird,” Ghoul muttered. Nerd. “Why is he on morphine?”

“Pain is pain,” the doctor said, shrugging. “I’m not sure why droids need it either, but I’ve come to decide that all pain is real pain and that if someone is hurting then it’s my job as a doctor to do what I can to relieve that pain.”

Ghoul nodded along with him. Nice nerd.

“Doc,” Poison called, waving a hand at him.

“Yes?”

“Can I get addicted to morphine?”

Kobra rolled his eyes.

“Well, I think anyone can get addicted to morphine, but… Biologically, you cannot form a dependency-”

“Fuck yeah,” Poison said, pressing the button to add more to his drip.

“Poison!” Show Pony smacked his head and turned the amount back down. “Dumbass, cut it out!”

Poison just laughed and shielded his head. He seemed like he was going to be fine.

And he was, after a few days in the hotel. Dr. D and Show Pony eventually convinced the others to come home and rest for real, though Ghoul didn’t do much of that without someone else with him. The first night he stared at the wall until he saw demons crawling out of it and it forced him to take the first sleeping pill he’d taken in a while. He hated how good it made him feel the next morning, well rested and without a wink of dreams. The second night he stayed in Kobra’s room, keeping his pills away from reach and trying to sleep normally. In the end, he could only sleep if Kobra was up and talking, and when he did sleep, he saw glittering blood covering pale legs, severed from their owner. The third night was arguably the worst. Ghoul had laid down in bed, ready to just take a sleeping pill and call it a night, when he was thrown into a hallucination of smoke and twisted limbs, screaming and bright red sparkly blood. He found himself, out the other end, hiding in this closet and being looked for by Show Pony.

The fourth day, Poison returned home. Dr. D had them take the van to pick him up and you would’ve thought the entire population of the zones was there to see him off. Roadrunner and Betty hugged him, he shared a few words with Bumble Bee, he thanked the doctor and nurses, waved to the other gangs present, and finally got into the van with a heavy sigh.

“Oh my god I’m so tired,” he said, leaning on Kobra, who was sat next to him. “I literally slept most of the time, I don’t know why I’m tired.”

“You’ve been through a lot,” Show Pony said from the passenger seat. “You’re allowed to be tired, I think.”

“So, no more races, right?” Jet meant his question to be a joke but it came out pretty earnest.

“No more races in the gorge,” Poison said with a wink. “Rock came outta nowhere…”

Ghoul couldn’t speak, he feared he might throw up. He remembered the rock. That fucking rock that had attempted to kill one of his best friends. The rock the trans am was wrapped around right now. That fucking rock.

“I heard the Sisters got the ‘am out of the gorge,” Dr. Death said as he drove. “They’re offering to fix it up for us.”

“They don’t have to,” Kobra said, but the last thing he wanted to do was fix that car.

“I’ll tell them to start work on it.”

“Mm.”

They didn’t talk a whole lot on the way back, mostly Jet and Poison made conversation about the future of racing in the zones. Ghoul kept his mouth shut, to keep himself from throwing up and to keep himself from telling them to shut up because it was making him sick to his stomach. Show Pony kept an eye on him in the rear view mirror.

When they got to the radio station and finally inside, Poison announced it was “cuddle time” for the Killjoys.

“Cuddle?” Kobra deadpanned.

“Cuddle?” Jet sounded much more excited.

Ghoul, again, said nothing and tried to ignore the acid rising.

“Cuddle!” Poison said, walking to the hallway that led to all of their bedrooms. “But in Jet’s room, he has the best bed.”

“I do,” Jet said.

“Why does he get the best bed, anyway?” Kobra whined, looking to his ratty bed as they passed his room.

“I was the first Killjoy,” Jet said, hopping onto his bed. “I got first pick.”

“Oh whatever…” Kobra fell onto the mattress and was out like a light.

Poison sat down at the foot of the bed and looked up at Ghoul, saying, “you gonna cuddle?”

Ghoul swallowed down the bile still sticking to his tongue and smiled slightly.

“I guess so,” he said, laying down next to Jet and ending up facing Poison as he laid down.

Poison watched Ghoul look anywhere but him.

“You okay?” Poison asked, watching Ghoul’s eyes snap to him.

“Yep.” Ghoul spoke fast and untruthfully.

“What’s wrong?”

“I-…” Ghoul rubbed his face. “I can’t stop- s-seeing it, the-”

“Hey,” Poison said, pulling him into a hug.

“Careful, you’re still-”

“I’m fine now, look at me.”

Ghoul looked up into unbloodied eyes, clean teeth, healed face. He was okay.

“It’s okay now, alright?” Poison smiled slightly. Clean teeth.

“… Alright.” Ghoul conceded. “I’ve been- it’s been really hard. The last few days.”

“Yeah?”

“I-I took a sleeping pill,” Ghoul said shakily.

“Oh no,” Poison hugged him tight. “I’m sorry.”

Ghoul hid his face.

“Don’t feel ashamed.”

Ghoul said nothing.

“Don’t feel ashamed.”

Ghoul nodded.

“You’re strong, it’s okay.”

Eventually, Ghoul fell asleep. Real sleep, this time. Nothing artificial, nothing plagued with visions of glitter and pain, just sleep. Ghoul didn’t dream, he thought, though he did sometimes hear a voice singing. He realized as he woke up slightly that it was Poison singing. He sounded a lot like someone he’d heard before, but he couldn’t place who or where. He fell back asleep to his voice.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ghoul could not believe they were doing this. Poison was smiling like an idiot, because he was one. The car was back in one piece but Ghoul couldn’t understand how Poison just jumped into the driver’s seat without an issue.

“Once a crash queen, always a crash queen,” is what Jet had said.

They were speeding down the road, just Ghoul and Poison, heading toward the Oblivion to get Poison his one month check-up. Ghoul had initially declined to come along, but Kobra pointed out that he’s been avoiding the car ever since the crash. Even still, when he heard the word crash his stomach tightened up. He couldn't help it. Poison promised he’d drive safe, which meant that he wouldn’t purposefully speed over bumps and go off road, which wasn’t much, but Ghoul appreciated the sentiment. So, he was in the car. He was gripping the seat belt, so much that his hands were starting to cramp up.

The Oblivion came into view, probably the tallest building in the zones, covered in decorations to light it up at night. They had their own van now, painted with “Oblivion Hotel” on the side. They had learned after visiting more often than the Oblivion was a front for a hospital. Every room on the first two floors were made up to be hospital rooms, but every other room in the six story hotel were regular hotel rooms. Anyone who came in looking for a place to stay were housed from the top down in order to keep the sounds of the hospital equipment far away from the tenants. When the doctor wasn’t being a doctor he was the Oblivion’s bellboy. News was already spreading that the Oblivion was a hospital with high tech equipment, and the Killjoys had promised to protect the place if BLI decided to try and raid the place.

Ghoul was thankful that they knew a real doctor in the zones, and was more than happy to protect the place that saved his best friend, but dear lord did he hate getting in that motherfucking car and walking into that building and remembering everything all at once.

“Ghoul, you okay?” Poison had stopped walking to put his hand on Ghoul’s shoulder.

Ghoul didn’t trust his voice so he nodded, which was basically the signal for “no, I’m not okay.”

Poison frowned, but kept walking inside.

“Party Poison!” The nurse at the desk called, standing up.

“Nurse Joy!” He shouted back, smiling.

“How have you been doing?” She walked around the desk to give him a hug, then checked the fading scars on his arms. “A lot better, I bet.”

“I have,” Poison said, proud of himself for not doing anything too crazy since the crash.

“It’ll be a short visit, then.” Nurse Joy smiled at him.

“For me, yeah,” Poison said, then glanced behind him at Ghoul. “But I actually wanted to talk to you about something…”

“About what?” Her gaze flickered to Ghoul as well, knowingly.

Ghoul wasn’t paying attention, though. He was staring at a bloodstain on the floor that hadn’t been bleached out yet. It couldn’t have been from the crash but it brought him back to fading in and out of consciousness while sitting in the Oblivion’s waiting room.

“Ghoul’s been… Not great.” Poison walked a small distance away from Ghoul, just in case. “He can’t sleep without someone next to him and I barely convinced him to get in the car today. He hasn’t been in it since the crash.”

“Oh no, that’s terrible…” Nurse Joy bit her lip. 

“I remember you talked once about being a therapist or trying to be one, would you be willing to talk to him about it?”

“Of course, Poison,” Nurse Joy said, looking back to Ghoul. “I’ll talk with him while you’re back with the doctor, okay?”

“Thank you so much. I can pay you if you-”

“No, don’t dream of it, you can pay us back in protection like always.” Nurse Joy patted his arm and sent him down the hall toward the doctor’s office.

In that office, the doctor was sat in his chair fixing up his desk. When Poison entered the room the doctor smiled at him.

“You look well,” he said, standing up.

“I feel well!” Poison hugged him.

“Well, let’s go to one of the exam rooms and make sure everything’s healing properly.” The doctor held the door open while Poison walked to an adjacent room. “I’m mostly worried about your stomach, I’m sure you are too.”

“It’s felt fine,” Poison said, hopping onto the exam table and shedding his jacket. “Maybe a tug here and there…”

“Well, any feeling could be a bad one, so I must insist we check on it.” The doctor pulled his stool over and lifted Poison’s shirt to check the wound. It still looked pretty bad, mostly because of the scarring. Droids scarred differently than humans, naturally, and it always looked way worse than it was. The doctor put a hand over the access panel.

“May I?”

“Yep.” A long time ago, during their first check-up, Poison had opened his panel without the doctor asking, and they had a long conversation about patient consent and the importance of making sure everyone was comfortable. Poison had felt icky after that, remembering the way Korse had just up and popped open any panel or joint when he had wanted to see it. Now, though, Poison was very comfortable with this specific person opening panels because it was his doctor and he always asked.

“Looks pretty good,” the doctor mumbled, shining a flashlight into Poison’s stomach. “The tubing might have to be changed soon, just in case. We don’t want anything rupturing. There’s a bit of scraping on the left side, I think we should take care of that today. What have you been doing since the last visit?”

“Nothing major…” Poison bit his lip. “I may have… I dunno…”

“No racing, I hope?” The doctor wore a face that fully expected the answer he got.

“Well…” Poison looked down, like a child caught stealing cookies. “Maybe like one or two…”

“I can’t say I’m surprised, just disappointed.” The doctor sighed and turned around to grab some tools. “I’d hoped you’d listen to me about not doing that for at least three months, though. It’s only been a month since the crash, you can’t expect yourself to be ready for that kind of stress yet.”

“It’s not even that stressful!” Poison crossed his arms. “It’s just driving, whatever!”

“It’s not safe if your legs could detach from your torso, Poison.” The doctor gently unfolded Poison’s arms to get to his stomach. “Your hip joints suffered a lot of stress in the crash and I still don’t have the parts to replace them. Whoever cobbled together your repairs held no concern for the way they fit in your body.”

Poison said nothing, watching the doctor carefully place mesh on the inside of his stomach and smear paste over it to heal the abrasions. 

“They don’t fit, I’ve told you that before. But the parts are also very rare, for some reason.”

“I know the reason,” Poison said, leaning back on his hands as the doctor closed his stomach. “I’m a pretty old model. Not a lot of me still hangin’ around Bat City, and if there are they’re old and worn, too.”

“That’s unfortunate.” The doctor threw out the disposable tools and washed the others. “We need to replace them the moment we get the chance. Otherwise, if they wear long enough, they could give out completely. Then you’d be confined to a wheelchair, and while I know that you have spares around the radio station, I’m sure you’d rather be able to drive.”

Poison drew his eyebrows together. Yeah, he’d like to keep being able to drive.

“I suggest we start looking into either alternatives or sending scrap teams to try and find hip sockets. Those are starting to look bad.” The doctor leaned on the counter, hands in his pockets. “I’m not trying to scare you, I’m just being serious about the very real possibility that you could end up without the use of your legs.”

“I know,” Poison sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I’ve been trying to avoid the scrap team option. What alternatives are there?”

“Replacing both your legs and part of your torso.” The doctor knew how big of a deal that was. 

“Holy shit.”

“We wouldn’t just be able to replace the sockets alone, not if they didn’t match your joints. The hips are always complicated in droids, not as complicated as wrists are in humans, but complicated. If we replaced your hip sockets, we would have to replace your ball joins in your legs, which would have to match the new sockets, as well as matching the knee joints. Yours aren’t made in droids anymore. Then, the torso has a section that is welded together with the hips, which is a horrible design choice and something they don’t do anymore. That would have to be replaced too, which is about half your stomach.”

Poison had his head in his hands as the doctor spoke.

“And, honestly, the real alternative is the scrap team. What I’m explaining, this will have to happen eventually. The amount of damage done to your body already is too much to leave. At this rate, and if you continue to ignore my warnings, your legs have two years at most.”

“Two years?”

“Only two. That’s not counting if you were to get into an accident again. If you want to be around an extra fifty years, completely replacing your legs and lower torso is the only option.”

“I may throw up.”

“That’s fine.”

“Two years?”

“Only two.”

Back in the waiting room, Nurse Joy was helping Ghoul work through the series of events on the day of the crash. It was a technique of grief counseling, working through the traumatic events to process them and move on from them. It was going great, to Nurse Joy. To Ghoul, he was bawling his eyes out and stuttering out things that barely counted as words. It took him a few tries to figure out how he felt about the crash, and even longer to stop crying long enough to articulate it. Nurse Joy was patient with him and was so proud of him for being able to identify what he was feeling. 

“I just- he- it was so weird in the moment…” Ghoul blew his nose and sniffled. “He was awake, like completely awake in the car and stuff. People- humans usually pass out from, like, stress or their brain trying to protect them, right? It was so uncomfortable to watch him be awake for all that… And then, for him to so easily get back into that fucking- death trap…”

“Well, all people process trauma differently. Party Poison may just be glad that he was able to recover from the physical trauma he endured and not really connect the car as the source of that trauma.”

“How, though? How can everyone be okay with driving? And if everyone else is fine with it, why am I not?”

“Like I said, everyone processes trauma differently. To you, the car was the thing that almost caused your friend to lose his legs, that’s what you told me, and so the idea of getting back in the car seems like the last thing you would ever want to do. Am I right?”

“Yeah…”

“So, you connect the car with the trauma you’ve faced. That’s okay. But you have to understand that the car is like… It’s like a blaster, or a knife. It’s not dangerous by nature- well, a knife or blaster may be dangerous by design- a butter knife. The car is like a butter knife. Or even a spoon. It’s a tool, something you use to make things easier. A butter knife you use to spread butter or jam or cut something in half. The car you use to get from one place to another. A spoon you would use to eat with. But you can dig someone’s eye out with a spoon. You can absolutely stab someone with a butter knife. I have.”

Ghoul stared at her.

“Not recently, I’m just saying, you can. And the car- the car can be used to hit people. It’s about how you use the tool that determines how you think about it. And if you really think about the events you described to me, it wasn’t the car’s fault that the accident occurred. It was no one’s fault. There’s no blame to shift, which can be frustrating because we all want someone or something to blame to feel better. But you have to realize that this was exactly what it was; an accident.”

He considered that for a moment. The car wasn’t at fault. No one was. She was right, that was frustrating. 

“It’s never as easy as just don’t get in the car and it’ll be fine. You know that.” Nurse Joy patted his arm. “But you made real progress today. How do you feel about getting in the car to go home?”

“… Better, I think…” Ghoul still felt an icky twisting in his stomach, but it wasn’t the urge to vomit, so it was progress.

It wasn’t long after their conversation that Poison and the doctor were walking back into the room. Poison looked shaken up, which made Ghoul worried instantly.

“We had a long conversation about some things you all should discuss as a group,” the doctor said, squeezing Poison’s shoulder. “Things are healing well, though.”

“Come on, Ghoul,” Poison said, shaking his head. “We have to go talk with the others. Can you- well, can you drive?”

Ghoul felt bile rise in his throat, but nodded anyway, standing up.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.” Ghoul was proud that his voice sounded so sure. “Let’s go. Thank you, doctor, Nurse Joy.”

“Come back in another month, if not sooner,” the doctor called to them as they left.

In the car, Ghoul took slow breaths as he pulled out of the parking lot. He would be fine driving, he told himself. It would be fine. He was much more concerned about whatever recent developments had come out of Poison’s check-up.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Replace your legs?” Dr. Death said, taking off his glasses to run a hand over his face.

“And the lower part of my torso.” Poison was sat with the other Killjoys on the floor of the front room. Kobra was next to him, arm around his shoulders and face screwed up in disgust. “He said my legs have two years.”

“Two years?” Jet echoed.

“Only two.”

“And he said that, even if we were to find some scrap parts?” Show Pony offered, biting their lip.

“Yeah. He said it’ll have to happen eventually. He told me the recovery period is about six months, or expected to be. We don’t know how I’ll respond to it, it’s gotta be a similar model, all that fun stuff…”

“So, still a G3R but more recent?” Ghoul asked, tasting acid on his tongue.

“Yeah. That’s the only way we’ll be sure the parts will even fit in my body.” Poison shivered. He hated the idea of replacing half his fucking body, but he hated the idea of rusting away in the station’s dumpsters even more.

“Holy fuck,” Jet said in a deep sigh, leaning back and laying on the floor. “That’s- I don’t even know. That’s really messed up.”

“The worst part is that we’d have to find one first. Someone who looked just like me but better,” Poison said with disgust. “Newer, shiny, unbroken… We can’t get it from the scrap heaps.”

“It’d be too damaged,” Dr. D said, nodding. “We have to find a donor, then. Can’t just rip the legs off an unwilling wire.”

“I can if we have to,” Ghoul said, eyes dark. He was staring at the still healing gash across Poison’s right leg, visible through a tear in his jeans.

“Don’t say that,” Show Pony warned, smacking his head. “You won’t. Don’t stoop so low.”

“Well, what if we don’t find one in time?” Ghoul challenged, looking up at them. “What then?”

“We figure out a new plan,” Dr. D said with a stern gaze. “Wires, droids, they’re people, Ghoul. Your best friend is one of them. Don’t decide to treat all but one like objects, you know that’s wrong.”

Ghoul shut his mouth, all but pouting at being scolded.

“We’ll work with the doctor and try to find a donor in the zones.” Dr. Death sat up straighter in his chair. “There’s gotta be a G3R droid somewhere in the zones.”

Poison glared at his hands in his lap.

“If we have to, we can search within the city.” Dr. D knew that that would have to be the last resort. 

And that last resort was sure to quickly turn into a first resort. Their first method to find a donor was broadcasting the call for a donor for an unspecified droid over the radio. No one responded in the first week, then there were small sparks of information: dead ends of possible sightings, wrong models, etcetera. After that, they told the zones that it was Party Poison who needed a donor, and suddenly the claims of possible parts spiked. They managed to find a few actual claims of scrapped models that were similar, but in the six weeks following the first of the search, not a single G3R model was found in the zones. They even started getting letters on scrap searches in zones five and six, where zoners seldom lived. 

But even after two months of searching, they were no closer to finding a G3R model anywhere in the zones. They were losing steam, but the search became the zones’ top priority when Poison’s condition took a turn.

He’d just been walking. He was walking, and then suddenly he wasn’t and he was on the ground and shouting in pain. Kobra had been walking with him, carrying two gallons of water and talking about the newest letters they’d gotten at the station. Jet had been walking behind them, also carrying water. Ghoul had been in front. Poison had been walking, he took one especially normal step with his right leg, heard a pop, felt a shift, and crumpled to the ground.

“Poison?!” Kobra nearly dropped the water and knelt down next to him.

Jet ran forward to catch up and Ghoul spun around, terrified.

“Ah- my fuckin-” Poison was scrambling to get off his right leg, rolling over onto his back. His hip was fine, but his leg was clearly out of its socket and at an ugly angle.

“Something moved- fuck!”

Ghoul was already running to the van that was parked at the gas station they’d been leaving. He started it and drove up next to the others.

“Hold on, don’t move,” Kobra said, hooking his arms under Poison’s shoulders.

“Don’t fuckin’ worry about it,” Poison panted out, trying not to scream at the horrible pain shooting in waves up his leg. 

Jet helped get him in the back of the van and then they were off speeding toward the Oblivion. The drive wasn’t very long, but they had to drive out of their way since the van couldn’t go off road.

When they finally did get there, Nurse Joy was outside smoking. When the van screeched to a stop in the parking lot, she tossed her cigarette and ran inside.

While the scene wasn’t exactly the same as the crash from almost a year ago, Ghoul felt the memories bubble up. This time, instead of trying to force them out, he remembered them in as much detail as possible. He managed to flow out the other end of the memories without much nausea.

The doctor informed them after the emergency surgery that it was now or never to replace Poison’s legs. He would already be forced to use a wheelchair from now on or risk shattering his weathered hip socket. The doctor was not happy to hear that it had just happened while walking normally. When he examined it further, under x-ray and magnified analysis, he found hairline fractures all over both sockets. Poison was no longer allowed to walk around, period.

“If something like this happens again,” the doctor said to Poison, who was listening intently from his hospital bed, “you could risk severing something very important. This time, your ball joint missed the nerve connectors by a centimeter.”

Poison shuddered. If the nerve connectors were severed, there would be no guarantee they could find the parts to repair them.

So, Poison was in one of Dr. Death’s older wheelchairs. One that didn’t have a motor and couldn’t move without elbow grease, but it had wheels. Better than nothing. Show Pony was making Poison feel like shit, though, going back and forth between scolding him for not being careful and crying over not knowing what they were going to do for him. Poison hated when Show Pony got like this. Show Pony was almost a parental figure to him at this point, so watching them suffer through grief was unbearable.

Ghoul was Poison’s unofficial nurse, wheeling him everywhere and helping him with getting in and out of bed, using the bathroom, taking showers- everything. Poison felt strange about it, not because he was uncomfortable, but because he felt so sorry that anyone had to help him do anything. Ghoul promised he didn’t mind, that he was happy to help, but Poison knew that it was wearing on him. Not just the physical acts of helping him around, but the mental wear of the situation.

There came a particular night, one where everyone was feeling the especially low morale, where Poison didn’t ask for help for a while. Instead, he silently wheeled himself down the hall and into the bathroom. Ghoul had finally fallen asleep on the couch, having been stressed out all day helping Poison around the station while the others joined scrap teams in the zones. In the bathroom, Poison took a chance and stood on his own, taking very slow, careful steps to the toilet. He managed to pee without issue, sitting back in the chair and starting to wash his hands, when he heard the couch creak.

“Poison?” Ghoul called, groggy but clearly worried. “Poison, where are you?”

“I just took a piss,” Poison said, wheeling back into the hall. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“You should’ve,” Ghoul huffed, worry dropping from his voice and replaced by annoyance. “I would’ve helped you, you shouldn’t have gone on your own.”

“I’m not made of fucking glass,” Poison spit, pent up anger over his shitty situation tumbling out. “I know I have to be careful, but fuck, I can still use the toilet on my fucking own.”

Ghoul looked surprised, then said, “it’s safer if someone helps you.”

“I know, it’s fine.” Poison shut down, wheeling down the hall to the bedroom. “Help me into bed, can’t risk walking two fucking inches.”

Ghoul stood in the doorway, glaring at him. 

“Well?” Poison raised an eyebrow defiantly. “I thought it was safer if someone helps me?”

“Fuck off,” Ghoul growled, stomping down the hall.

“Thought so.” Poison hoisted himself out of the wheelchair and flopped into bed, pulling the covers over his head and hugging his sides tight. He fucking hated this. Just go dismember a droid in the city for all he fucking cared, he just wanted his life back.

The next morning, Poison woke up to a whispered conversation in the doorway of the bedroom.

“I don’t think you should tell him,” someone said. It sounded like Jet. “We don’t want to get his hopes up.”

“I know,” Kobra said, “but he said he was a 1000 model. Way later, it’s too good to pass up.”

“Are they at the Oblivion?”

“Yeah, the doctor said he’d have the answer soon, we should go if we’re going to commit to it.” Kobra walked into the room and over to where Poison was pretending to sleep. “I know we could be getting our hopes up, but if it’s for real, this could be it.”

“You said he was damaged,” Jet said, sounding like he knew it was useless to argue.

“Can’t expect to find a perfect donor in the zones.” Kobra put a hand on Poison’s shoulder and shook it gently. “Hey, Poison, you awake?”

Poison gave a few seconds to pretend like he was waking up, then looked up to Kobra and said, “what’s up?”

“We think we found a donor.”

“Really?” Poison sat up fast, already excited from hearing the previous conversation. 1000 was a huge step from 600, four generations. “Where? What do we do?”

“He’s at the Oblivion, we’re leaving soon.” Kobra helped Poison into the wheelchair and took him out to the living room. “By the way, where’s Ghoul? He’s usually in there to wake you up.”

“I don’t know…” Poison acted innocent and quickly tried changing the subject, “what’s for breakfast?”

“You don’t eat,” Kobra huffed, rubbing his eyes. “What happened? Did you two fight?”

“Sort of, I guess…” Poison pouted. “I basically said I didn’t want help with all the little things. I can use the toilet myself, you know?”

“Poison-” Kobra sounded appalled. “You- are you serious? I can’t- I can’t believe you- okay, we don’t have time to talk about this.”

“What?! What’d I do?!” Poison shouted, crossing his arms. “It’s true! I can get around just fine by myself!”

“Poison, we will talk about this later, I promise,” Kobra said through a glare. “But for now, we’re going to get in the car and go to the Oblivion.”

Poison didn’t understand, Kobra told himself. And how could he? He wasn’t the one Ghoul came to just a few nights after Poison got his wheelchair in the middle of a breakdown. He wasn’t the one Ghoul had cried on the shoulder of, sobbing over what he wished he could’ve done, should’ve done, wish he would’ve done. He wasn’t the one Ghoul had said those three words to, the ones that would either shatter or fortify the Killjoys when he was the one he said them to. Kobra had a fucking lot on his mind, and he felt completely selfish for it. Poison had so much more going on.

They drove there in silence, Poison pouting in the passenger seat, Jet silently staring at the radio like if he tried hard enough he could turn it on with his mind, and Kobra silently driving in that brooding way he did when he was thinking about too much.

As the Oblivion came into view, Poison felt his stomach twist. He was about to meet a newer, better, shinier model of himself. That made him sick to his stomach. Would he even recognize himself? The idea that there were tons of him never used to bother him, but now it was the most disgusting thought that wormed its way into his brain. The icky realization that so many of him who walked, talked, acted, maybe even thought like him- he felt his skin crawl.

Kobra helped him into his wheelchair and allowed him to wheel himself inside. Jet followed closely behind until they went inside, then he slyly peeled off toward the pay phone just outside the hotel.

Inside, the doctor and Nurse Joy met them in the lobby.

“Party Poison, welcome again,” the doctor said, happier than ever.

“Good to see you,” Poison said, glancing to the door that lead to the exam rooms. “So, I heard you found a willing donor?”

“We did!” The doctor clapped his hands twice happily. “He’s a perfect match, and four generations better- well- uh, sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine, where is he?” Poison felt his heart rate rise.

“Just back here, in room three,” the doctor said, walking back to the door and holding it open for him.

Kobra followed them back and gasped quietly when they entered the room.

Poison was- no, fuck, the G3R-1000 model was sitting on the exam table. His face was exactly the same as Poison’s, save for the wear of the zones and the bright red hair. Kobra stared in awe for a moment, then felt his guts churn. It was the weirdest feeling, seeing your friend who wasn’t your friend, knowing they weren’t a twin or anything. An exact replica, more like it.

Poison was having a similar panic attack, staring at himself but different, wrong, off, backwards. He was- fuck, he was different, he was exactly the same- he was perfect. Better than Poison, better by design. His skin was untouched, unmarred by the hands of- no, don’t start thinking about that, he was already hyperventilating. The doctor put a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

The G3R-1000 model stared at Poison too. He was full of wonder. The famous Party Poison, here, in the fle- in the… In the flesh, he supposed. Though it wasn’t exactly…

“So,” the doctor said, clearing his throat. “This is our willing donor. He is a G3R-1000 model home droid. His vocal processor was damaged while escaping the city, so he can’t talk, but he’s given us written consent.”

Poison suddenly snapped back to reality and noticed the huge, ugly scar on his neck. Poison winced.

“He said that he’d be honored to help you recover.” The doctor sat on his stool. 

G3R-1000 nodded, a small smile forming on his face. Kobra almost puked right there, and he wasn’t totally sure why until he left the room. That face- that smile- it was the same as when he had met Poison, back before he chose his name, before they took that emotion inhibitor out. Kobra didn’t want to ask if this guy had gotten his taken out yet. He already needed a drink or drugs or fucking something.

“Uh, thank you,” Poison said, feeling awkward. G3R-1000 just smiled wider. “So, what’s the plan, doc?”

The plan was to first put G3R-1000 out, carefully detach most of the lower half of his body (the doctor used medical terms and Poison was not fully listening) and then after they clean and prep the new parts, do the same with Poison. Next, attach the new parts to Poison and toss the old ones. Then, rehab for both of them. The doctor said there may be an entire day where Poison would have to be without the new parts, simply because of the dangers of keeping him out for too long. Poison agreed to everything, giving written consent and all that patient stuff.

Before he left to be taken to his room, he asked to talk with G3R-1000 alone. The doctor said of course and stepped out. Once the door shut, Poison forgot all his words.

G3R-1000 was looking at him like he was blessed to be near him, unfortunately something Poison was used to as a Killjoy.

“Hey,” Poison started, feeling weird as he realized this would be a one-way conversation. “I really- I can’t thank you enough for what you’re about to do. It’s really dangerous and scary and I can understand if you start having second thoughts. I would be…”

G3R-1000 smiled at him, not excited and giddy like before. This time, he smiled like he knew. What he knew, Poison didn’t know, but he knew. Knew that it was okay, knew that it was bothering Poison more than him. He knew.

“I- I’ve been through a lot,” Poison said, looking at his lap. “A lot that I didn’t need to go through and a lot that I think I did need to go through. If you get that.”

G3R-1000 nodded solemnly.

“I’m sure you’ve been through a lot too. I don’t know why I-” Poison stuttered and rubbed his face. “I’m sorry. I think I wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry I need this from you, I’m sorry you decided to do this, I’m just- I’m sorry.”

G3R-1000 tapped his shoulder and Poison looked into his own face. G3R-1000 hugged him, a tight grip around his shoulders. Poison hugged back and let out a shuddered sigh, realizing he was near tears. Why was he about to cry? It seemed like G3R-1000 knew. He seemed to know everything. Knew everything and couldn’t say a word, how unfair.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m-” Poison cut himself off, letting G3R-1000 go and wiping his tears.

G3R-1000 had him look up, and then spelled out a word with his fingers on his own chest.

_Scared._

And, yeah, Poison realized, he was fucking terrified. The doctor had told him that this wasn’t a guarantee, that something could go horribly wrong, that, obviously, one of them would be losing their legs and that they could both potentially never walk again. So, yes, Poison was scared.

“That’s an understatement,” Poison huffed, sort of laughing but mostly stifling a sob.

G3R-1000 waved a hand (the exact same way Poison does) dismissively at him. He held up his pointer fingers to the sides of his mouth and smiled wide. Then, he held his fingers to Poison’s mouth, waiting.

Poison stared at him, chuckled slightly, then smiled.

G3R-1000 looked so happy, he even clapped in excitement.

“You’re a strange one,” Poison sighed, rolled back to give G3R-1000 room to get off the exam table. “Let’s hope we both make it through this.”

G3R-1000 hopped off the table and nodded once, his face full of determination. Poison felt okay now, better than earlier. He wasn’t thinking about how strange it was that they looked the same, he wasn’t worried about their interactions anymore. He was, however, thinking idly about the surgery.

As Nurse Joy wheeled him to his room, he realized he missed Ghoul. He wondered where he was and hoped he was okay. He hoped Ghoul had gotten sleep, at least. He’d had a hard time lately, with the search and all.

In the hotel’s dining hall, at the bar, Kobra was drinking away the icky feeling of seeing two Party Poisons, one clearly newer, nicer, more perfect, more refined, more- something. He hated the way they moved the same, the way they would’ve probably talked the same, walked the same- he downed another shot and tried to focus on the burning it caused.

Outside the hotel, Jet was on the phone.

“You’ve seen him?” Jet asked. He was leaning on the pay phone, watching the rain clouds gather overhead.

“I have,” Dr. Death said over the line. “He came in for breakfast after you left. He said he didn’t want to see Poison until after his surgery.”

“What?” Jet bit his nails. Why would he do that? That was a very bad idea, Poison needed his friends right now.

“I’m tryin’ to get him to go over there, to see him before he goes under, but he had that little pouty face on and shut me out the moment I tried to bring it up. Show Pony said they’ll try their best.”

“Well, if Show Pony is on the case, it’ll be done by tonight,” Jet chuckled, though he wasn’t so sure anymore. Ghoul had gotten more stressed out, spread too thin, over the last few months. Everyone had been dealing with their own shit and trying to pretend they weren’t when Poison was around. Nobody wanted to make it feel like their problems were more important than Poison’s. All that led to, though, was that everyone now was bursting at the seams with emotions and had nowhere to put them.

“I hope so,” Dr. D said. His voice sounded so tired. “I’m worried about them, you know? Ghoul and Poison.”

“I am too… They need to make up before this whole thing goes down.”

“Not just that…” Dr. D huffed a sigh. “I gotta go, midday broadcast is about to start. Call me with any new info.”

“Will do.” Jet hung up after Dr. D and stood out in the rain as it began to fall. He wondered where Ghoul was and why he was being such an ass when Poison needed to be surrounded by his friends- no, his family. He needed his family around him right now. Jet decided he felt Ghoul was being selfish. If he saw him, he would tell him so.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Everyone was there. Well, everyone except Ghoul and Show Pony. It wasn’t the day of Poison’s surgery, but it was the day of G3R-1000’s, and Poison insisted everyone visit him before he went under. And everyone did, eliciting a myriad of reactions because of the uncanny resemblance, and wishing him good luck and good vibes. Dr. D gave him a hug, thanking him. Kobra patted his shoulder and nodded, Kobra Kode for thank you. Jet smiled wide at him and gave a thumbs up. Then the doctor made them leave so they could start.

They waited in the lobby, buzzing with a sort of apprehension for something they couldn’t place. Poison challenged Jet to a chess game and Kobra wandered off to the bar again. Dr. D sat with his current book and read to the sound of Poison and Jet fighting over who was cheating.

It was six solid hours before the doctor came out into the lobby with clear sorrow written on his face. Everyone waited to find out why, but Poison already knew.

“The surgery was… successful, in the removal of G3R-1000’s legs, however…” The doctor carefully folded his freshly washed hands. “He… Unfortunately, he was weaker than we initially expected. He was unable to reboot after the surgery and… He’s gone.”

Poison was already crying, folded in on himself with his face pressed into his knees. Kobra, sat staring drunkenly on the couch, felt like the world flipped on its head. Jet rubbed Poison’s back and felt horribly guilty when he didn’t cry. Dr. Death took off his glasses and held them to his chest.

They decided that the best thing to do would be to honor him at the mailbox. But not before the doctor convinced Poison to accept other parts as well. Initially, Poison felt it was horribly distasteful of the doctor to even suggest this, but the more he thought about it, the more he understood where the doctor was coming from. From a grossly medical standpoint, this purely meant more upgrades and less time between tune-ups. From a human standpoint, it meant having less to bury, which hurt. But Poison agreed. 

Poison chose what they left in the mailbox. The upper left chest plate. The closest to the human heart, the place G3R-1000 had spelled out words to Poison, the spot that held his serial number.

The service was small. Nurse Joy made everyone hot cider and cookies. The rain this year was relentless.

Poison had been shoving a third cookie in his mouth when he saw someone outside the window. He watched them walk through the rain, drenched. He put his mug of cider down and wheeled quietly to the front door, carefully sliding it open and rolling down the access ramp.

“Hey,” Poison said, staying under the covering over the front doors of the hotel. “Where’ve you been?”

Ghoul looked up, startled. Then, he looked back down at his feet.

“I’m sorry,” Poison said. “I was an asshole before. Ungrateful. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Heard someone died,” Ghoul said, ignoring the apology. This was a good thing, though. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“Don’t sweat it.” Poison didn’t move when Ghoul stopped in front of him. “There’s hot cider and cookies inside.”

“Sounds good.”

Poison stared at him, watching the rain drip from his hair.

Ghoul stared back, a thousand things threatening to tumble out of his mouth as he watched Poison’s steel gaze hammer into him.

“Come inside,” Poison said. A demand, not an invitation.

Ghoul obediently followed him up the ramp and into the hotel.

Everyone inside welcomed him, solemn looks and halfhearted smiles. Ghoul didn’t know G3R-1000, and truthfully neither did any of them, but they still mourned the loss of him. It was an awful thing, to lose someone, even if you’d only known them a few days.

Poison sat near the corner of the room, watching everyone else. Ghoul sat next to him. They watched the rest of the room until the doctor said it was time for them to close up for the night and that Poison should sleep for tomorrow. Ghoul’s heart hammered in his chest as he realized that if he had waited a day more, he could’ve missed Poison before his surgery.

Poison let Ghoul wheel him to his room, smiling to himself at how Ghoul wanted to seem useful, apologizing by doting on him. And dote he did; once in Poison’s room, Ghoul scoffed at his flat pillows and found fresh ones, found Poison’s favorite pajamas, the super soft ones, and all but tucked Poison into bed in a halo of new and fluffy pillows. When he had nothing left to do, he sat and diligently waited for Poison to even insinuate that he needed something.

“Ghoul,” Poison said, his tone amused, “you don’t have to do all this.”

“I know,” Ghoul said simply.

“Then why are you?” Poison felt the air turn serious.

“Because I left and I shouldn’t have. You’re about to have the craziest fucking surgery ever and I went off to be dramatic about our little fight when I should’ve been here supporting you.” Ghoul balled his hands into fists. “I was being- I was being selfish.”

“Okay, did Jet give you a script?” Poison smiled, half surprised that he was hearing this from Ghoul, of all people.

“No. And I’m sorry, by the way. I’m sorry I acted like that.”

“I’m sorry, Ghoul, I’m the one who told you to fuck off,” Poison reasoned, feeling strange that Ghoul was so torn up over this. “If anyone should be groveling for your forgiveness, it should be me.”

“But you have an excuse,” Ghoul challenged.

“But you went through hell too!” Poison was exasperated with everyone’s need to ignore their own trauma. “Just because I was the one in the crash and the one who needs new legs doesn’t mean that you guys didn’t get impacted by that too! You all saw the crash happen, you especially were severely impacted by it, Ghoul! You have an excuse too. We all do.”

Ghoul looked tired, suddenly.

Poison made a decision, and said, “come here.”

“What?”

“Come here. Please.”

Ghoul got up slowly, walking to the side of Poison’s bed as Poison sat up.

“Ghoul, I-” Poison took Ghoul’s hand shakily. “I’m fucking terrified.”

Ghoul instantly held Poison’s hand with both of his.

“What happened today- that could happen to me. What if I don’t reboot?”

“You will.” Ghoul’s tone left no room for discussion. Born of fear as well. “You will reboot. It’s going to be okay, I know it is.”

“How?” Poison leaned forward and Ghoul knelt next to him.

“I just know. Because I said so.”

Poison had to laugh at how stubborn Ghoul was.

“You’re going to go under, and you’ll dream like you said you’ve started to, and you’ll reboot like normal and you’ll wake up and I’ll be there. I promise.”

Something shifted in Ghoul’s tone. Something that made Poison’s eyebrows come together. He looked over at Ghoul with a question that didn’t reach his lips.

“I’ll be right there when you wake up. Don’t worry about anything. The doctor knows what he’s doing, everything will go perfectly.” Ghoul sounded like he was trying to convince himself now. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Okay,” Poison said, his voice small. “Okay.”

Ghoul held Poison’s hand tighter, held it to his mouth and pressed a firm and scared kiss to his knuckles. Poison watched in wonder, feeling something completely new for the first time in a while. He had no name for it.

Ghoul eventually turned on the radio and they listened to a rebroadcast of Dr. D’s radio show. Poison fell asleep to the sound of a song so fucking familiar it almost kept him awake.

The next morning, Ghoul was there with coffee and last night’s cookies.

“Hey,” Poison said, yawning.

“Hey.”

“Coffee and cookies?” Poison sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“The doctor said you can’t eat or drink anything, but I was hungry. Sorry.”

“No problem.”

“He actually said something interesting, about food,” Ghoul said around a cookie.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. He said the later models have something close to digestive systems, so you could actually feel hungry and want to eat. Not just like, eat for fun.”

“Oh, weird.” Poison made a face, sticking his tongue out a little.

“Yeah. I look forward to Show Pony whining about it.”

“Ooh me too,” Poison laughed. “So, when do I, uh…”

“Noon.”

“Mm.”

Ghoul watched Poison closely, waiting for something. Then, something came.

“I can’t do this,” Poison said suddenly, bringing shaky hands to his face. “Oh god, I can’t do this, Ghoul, I just fucking can’t.”

“You can.” Ghoul got up and walked to the bed. “You’re strong, you can do this. It’s going to be okay, don’t think about it.”

“Don’t think about it,” Poison echoed, staring at his lap through his fingers. “Don’t think about it.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

It felt like an eternity in the lobby. Ghoul started out gripping his hands tightly while pacing around the room, but after two hours his legs were tired. Nurse Joy came out a few times to switch places with another nurse, and when she did she assured them all that Poison was doing really well. Ghoul eventually calmed enough to sit down and eat with Jet and Kobra. They didn’t talk, all still too nervous for it, but Ghoul coaxed a smile out of Kobra by making silly faces over his coffee. Show Pony and Dr. Death were there too, milling around and keeping updated with the nurses. 

Eventually, an agonizing six hours later, the doctor came out with a huge smile on his face.

“Good news!” He said, and everyone in the room relaxed in that instant. “It went perfectly. Party Poison will be awake and operational very soon. Nurse Joy is rebooting him, it’s going swimmingly. By tomorrow evening we can start-”

“Tomorrow evening?” Ghoul said, standing up. “A whole day?”

“I’m afraid so,” the doctor said, smile falling slightly. “But it will only be one day. We have to prep the parts and get everything in order.”

Ghoul sat back down and held his head in his hands. Dr. D wheeled over and thanked the doctor for his work, telling him the Oblivion was forever in their debt.

Not long after that, Nurse Joy came bounding out into the lobby with a bubbly smile and a joyful announcement that Poison was awake and ready to see everyone. The doctor asked only a few people at a time to go, warning them that it would definitely be upsetting and to take their time.

Ghoul pushed past them all to go first, throwing open the door and trying not to break into tears instantly.

His legs were gone, that was for sure. Gone where, Ghoul didn’t know, didn’t want to think about it. His stomach was threatening to make him see his dinner again. The blankets draped over Poison dropped off unevenly halfway down his torso, flat from there down save for the tubes running from there to the machines around him. Everything was hooked up to things that were keeping all the important stuff circulating. He even had an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. He groggily looked up as Ghoul came in.

“Fuck,” Ghoul breathed, going to his side. “Fuck.”

Poison nodded once, looking so fucking tired.

“How are you feeling?”

He tapped his finger where his hand lie, then held his fingers up. Ghoul got the message, taking his hand and squeezing.

“I’m sorry you have to go through this.” Ghoul felt helpless, useless. He couldn’t imagine how Poison must feel.

Poison shrugged slightly, as if to say “it’s fine” or something similar.

“Doc says it’ll be tomorrow night.”

Poison scrunched up his nose slightly, huffing.

“I know, there’s nothing we can do about it. It’ll be okay though. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up. They wouldn’t let me in.”

Ghoul’s heart broke as a sleepy smile formed on Poison’s face. He wanted to make this all stop, make it better, make it so that Poison could just live normally again.

“I’ll be here the whole day tomorrow, though. I promise not to leave.”

Poison put his other hand on top of Ghoul’s.

Kobra and Jet walked in then. Kobra had to turn around, his lungs emptying and his head spinning. Jet kept his eyes trained on Poison’s face and nowhere else.

“Hey, dude,” Jet said, coming to Poison’s side across from Ghoul. “Doctor says you did great.”

Poison held up a weak fist.

“That’s it!” Jet smiled wide, willing himself not to fucking cry.

Kobra was still standing in the hall. Ghoul was upset with him, but understood it must be hard to see Poison like this.

“You’ll have those new legs in no time, P,” Jet assured, gently rubbing Poison’s shoulder.

Poison nodded, blinking a few times.

“I think he’s tired,” Ghoul said, brushing the hair out of his face. “We should let him sleep.”

Kobra nodded to no one and walked back down the hall. Jet smiled at Poison and left the room. Ghoul didn’t budge.

Poison tapped his hand tiredly.

“I’m not leaving.”

Ghoul only faltered in his confidence when Poison put a cold hand to his cheek.

“… I won’t leave until you fall asleep,” Ghoul conceded.

Poison nodded once, closing his eyes and sighing.

Ghoul didn’t leave right after he fell asleep. He wanted to make sure he was okay, so he stayed an extra minute or two. Then, he walked toward the door and felt his head spin. Everything was all messed up and Ghoul hated it, he wanted it to be good again.

In the lobby, Show Pony handed him a towel and shoved him off toward his room, not saying anything. Ghoul figured he did need a shower, so he took one.

The doctor let him stay in Poison’s room for a while after that. Everyone gave them space. But eventually Ghoul was falling asleep in his chair and Nurse Joy made him sleep in his own bed. Which he didn’t. He couldn’t sleep without knowing Poison was okay.

At about three in the morning he got up, took his pillow and blanket, and crept down the halls of the hotel, heading to Poison’s room. He carefully and quietly opened the door and slipped inside. The room was the same. Poison was asleep. Ghoul put the pillow and blanket on the floor next to the door and laid down. He was finally able to fall asleep for a while. He’s pretty sure Nurse Joy pretended not to see him when she checked on Poison that morning around six.

Eventually, though, the doctor came in and told Ghoul to go have breakfast. He reluctantly did as the doctor checked the machines.

“There you are,” Jet said, annoyed. “You weren’t in your room.”

“I was in Poison’s.” Ghoul said, his voice raw for no good reason.

Jet looked sorry suddenly, upset with himself.

“Where’s Kobra and Show Pony?” Ghoul asked, sitting at the dining table and taking a bite of cereal.

“They went to check on the station and diner.” Jet took a bite of his own food. “Dr. D’s worried about leaving them for so long.”

“Mm.”

They ate silently for a while. Nurse Joy joined them for a little while, promising that Poison was still okay, that the machines were working properly.

Ghoul eventually made his way back to Poison’s room. As luck would have it, he got there just before Poison woke up for the day. He was allowed to have the oxygen mask off, but the doctor made it clear he was still a practical ICU patient. Nothing strenuous. Period.

“Hey,” Ghoul said, leaning on the side of the bed and taking Poison’s hand.

“Hey,” Poison whispered, his lungs wheezing.

“How are you feeling?” Ghoul asked, keeping the tremble in his voice in check.

“Fuckin’ stellar,” Poison breathed. “Joy said you slept in here last night.”

“I couldn’t help it, I couldn’t sleep otherwise.” Ghoul pulled Poison’s hand up to his mouth. “I had to know you were okay. Had to be there if something went wrong.”

“My protector,” Poison said wistfully. He was definitely still very tired and probably on drugs. Nonetheless, Ghoul’s chest tightened.

“You can sleep if you want.”

“No,” Poison shook his head. “Doc said no sleeping until tonight. Said it’s about safety.”

“Then we can talk if you want.”

“If I want,” he echoed. “I want to hear about what everyone’s been doing. How’s Kobra?”

“He’s fine,” Ghoul lied, not having the heart to let him worry. “He’s with Show Pony checking on the diner and the radio station right now.”

“Jet?”

“He’s good too, reading one of Dr. D’s books I think. One on chess. Look out.”

Poison chuckled weakly.

“He’s gonna beat you one of these days.”

“He’s a fuckin’ cheater,” Poison said. His voice was sounding stronger with use. 

They talked a while, Ghoul telling stories and making sure Poison didn’t fall asleep. The hours seemed to stretch for decades, and Poison was getting more and more tired as they wore on. Ghoul could tell he wanted to sleep so bad, it made his heart hurt.

“Just a little bit longer,” Ghoul said, shaking Poison back awake for a third time.

“Damn, I’m so fucking tired.” Poison rubbed his face and sighed. He stared down at his bed, where his legs should be. “That’s uncomfortable to look at.”

Ghoul said nothing, not looking.

“Okay, let’s stop looking at that,” Poison said shakily, turning his gaze to the ceiling and taking a breath. “Don’t think about it.”

“Nurse Joy said she’d make you a fresh batch of cookies tomorrow,” Ghoul said, trying and succeeding to distract him.

“Oh thank whatever god exists, I fucking love her cookies.”

“They’re perfect every time.”

“How does she do that?”

“I tried to ask but she said it’s a secret.”

“Damn. Once I’ve got my joggers back we gotta sneak into the kitchen and find out her methods.”

“Your joggers?” Ghoul laughed.

“Yes. My jumpers, my joggers, my kickers- you know.”

“Sure,” Ghoul giggled. He was running on not enough sleep and it was showing. But damn that was funny. Joggers. He giggled to himself again.

After what felt like forever to Poison, the doctor showed up and told them it was time. Poison happily turned his head to the side and let the doctor start shutting him down and Ghoul left the room with Nurse Joy. 

And then it was back to waiting. Only this time, Ghoul decided to take a different approach. He walked into the lobby and saw Kobra had returned and was nursing a fresh glass of whiskey. Jet was next to him, falling asleep over the chess manual he was studying. Show Pony was a wreck, pacing and smoking while drinking something dark out of the bottle. Dr. Death was the only person other than Ghoul that was semi in his right mind, sitting quietly and fiddling with a handheld radio.

Ghoul’s plan was simple; he would get everyone in the car, drive to the Nest, collect whatever comic books stashed there along with some snacks and games, make their way back, and be back before the surgery was over.

He managed to convince Kobra, Jet, and Show Pony. Dr. D said he’d rather wait there. Ghoul counted this as a win for now. They all piled into the car and when Ghoul got behind the wheel Show Pony started to protest.

“No,” Ghoul snapped. “You’ve been drinking, so had Kobra, and Jet is tired. Plus, I’m feeling better about it.”

“Are you sure?” Jet asked from the passenger seat.

“Yeah. I’ve been thinking about what Nurse Joy said, how the car’s like a tool and it’s how you use it that matters. I’m gonna use it to drive us to the Nest and back, that’s all.”

Kobra was drooling on himself in his sleep when they finally left the parking lot. Jet popped a tape into the radio and they drove to the sounds of something far too optimistic for the gloomy, cloudy day.

The roads were cracked from use and negligence, but they were still drivable. Mostly. The exception was the drive leading to the Nest, the street split nearly down the middle and overgrown with those shitty desert bushes that scratched your ankles. As they parked and got out of the car, someone came running down the street. Ghoul reached for his blaster before they started waving and shouting.

“Killjoys! Hey!” Betty Bazooka shouted, smiling wide as she bounced down the street. “What in Distroya’s name are you guys doing here? I thought today was Party’s surgery?”

“It is, he’s gonna be under for a while,” Ghoul said, walking to meet her in a hug. “What are you doing out here?”

“The Sisters were meeting at the Nest for official business,” she said, smiling.

“Official business?” Ghoul raised an eyebrow.

“Getting high and playing video games. Wanna join?”

“Would, but we were just gonna grab snacks and stuff and head back to the Oblivion.”

“Aw, no fun. At least stay a little? How long do you think you have?”

“Maybe a few hours,” Ghoul said, starting to walk with her toward the Nest. The others were following them, albeit slowly because of Kobra’s drunkenness. “We could probably stay a little while, but I want to be there when he wakes up.”

“No problem.” Betty patted his arm.

They walked around the huge robot head in the sand, the supposed head of Distroya themself. Betty threw the door open to the Nest and the women in the room turned to see who was there. Royal Roadrunner was there, lounging on a beanbag smoking from a bong while the other Sisters played something that was now paused. The other Sisters, Ghetta Gun, Killer Kween, Akai Sora, and Terrible Honey were sprinkled around the room, all holding controllers.

“The Killjoys are here to join our little get-together!” Betty went straight for the cans of soda on the counter. “You all are mostly dudes, but we’ll cut the slack because of your man down.”

“Ah! The Killjoys?!” Ghetta dropper her controller and ran over to Jet. “It’s so sick to meet you guys! We heard about the stuff that’s been getting down, if you guys ever need anything just let us know!”

“Thank you,” Jet said, smiling. “Thank you guys for fixing the trans am, by the way.”

“No problem,” Sora said, putting her hand on her hip and eying them with an annoyed look. “Ghetta, can we please keep playing?”

“Wait,” Honey said, holding up a hand. Her voice was small but overly curious. She was the youngest Sister right now. “Is it true that Party Poison once drank an entire case of Go Juice without so much as flinching?”

“It was three cans,” Ghoul corrected, walking to Betty, “and he fucking short-circuited from the excess energy and caffeine. I guess technically that isn’t flinching, but he certainly convulsed.”

“That is so much more entertaining, thank you.” Honey turned back to the paused game.

“Ghetta, sweety,” Kween drawled, her southern accent a striking reminder that she was from outside the zones. “Please come back here and unpause the game.”

“Sorry,” Ghetta said, finally going back to the TV and starting the racing game again.

Ghoul thought about the prospects of a racing game and if he’d be able to convince Poison to play that instead of racing in unsafe places again. Betty handed him a soda and a bag of chips.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” Roadrunner said through a cloud of smoke, “I think we should raid that stupid fucking outpost in Zone 2. Guy hoards cash like a motherfucker.”

“Babe, we can’t,” Betty said as she slid into her girlfriend’s lap. “He was nice to the ‘Joys and gave us discounted meds when Honey was sick. That’d be against our code.”

“Boo.”

Betty gave her a quick peck on the cheek before turning her attention to the game.

Ghoul watched the others try not to feel awkward as they milled around to find spots to sit. Show Pony stood by the door, uncharacteristically still. Kobra, slightly more sober, leaned on the wall and crossed his arms. Jet, the only of them that didn’t feel a shred of awkwardness with most social situations, went over to sit on the floor next to the couch. Ghoul sipped on his soda and watched the Sisters play their racing game.

Eventually, and Ghoul was fuzzy on the details, everyone was high. Show Pony was pouring chips into their mouth one bag after another, Jet was asleep, Kobra was crying in the corner, the Sisters were discussing the ethics of starting a literal underground racing gang in the abandoned subways of Bat City, and Ghoul was just trying to find his fucking hands. He’d had them two seconds ago and wasn’t sure where they went. Smoke filled the room and kept them all hostage, the air thick with knowing and the smell of barbecue chips. Ghoul found his hand on the handle of the window and opened it. The window, not his hand. He got a deep breath of dusty desert air as the smoke escaped its prison, and his head cleared slightly.

Damn desert weed never stuck around long enough. He heard a shrill sound, something metal laughing at him. Or maybe the phone was ringing.

He answered it and realized he knew where his other hand was.

“Ghoul?” Dr. Death said through the wires of the phone. “You all should head back, Nurse Joy said it won’t be too long now until it’s over.”

“I’m high, I can’t drive,” Ghoul said, watching his words drip over the phone receiver. Desert weed never just had weed in it, did it. The radiation made it, as Poison would say, spicy.

“I figured you’d do something stupid like that,” Dr. D sighed. It pushed through the phone and into Ghoul’s face. “I’m on my way with Nurse Joy, we’ll pick you up.”

“Okay.” Ghoul hung up and pulled the spikes out of his hand to detach it from the phone. Okay, things were getting a little out of hand. Except for some of the spikes, those were in his hand.

He walked outside and coughed up a thought, watched it scurry away before he could think it. Damn things. He figured he’d start hallucinating now, it was as good a time as any. So he did. Though, he wasn’t prepared to slip through the cracks of reality and fall into the arms of someone in the blank nothingness of nowhere. The person who caught him was Poison, standing on two new legs that shined bright metallic blue and oozed stardust.

Ghoul blinked and they were normal, just regular legs in Poison’s favorite jeans. He looked up and Poison’s face was beautiful, scars like shooting stars, dusted with freckles that sparkled like glitter, mouth held in his adorable half-smile. Ghoul was in love.

“Ghoul?” Someone smacked his cheek and Poison melted away, not in a disturbing way, but just enough to make him frown. Dr. D’s stern and concerned face shone through nowhere and suddenly he was somewhere. “You dead?”

“Nope,” Ghoul said, clearing his throat and sitting up. He was on the ground, which he didn’t remember happening. “I’m just trying to get back.”

“Back where? What’d you guys smoke in there?”

“Back here,” Ghoul said, pointing to his head. “And I don’t know, whatever Roadrunner had. Tasted like sunsets.”

“Okay, get in the car with Joy and I’ll round up the others.”

“Careful, it gets you fast.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I can’t believe you let me have that, I’m fucking starving,” Show Pony whined, opening another can of fruit. “That stuff always makes me so hungry my stomach hurts.”

“I can’t believe the Sisters just smoke that like it’s nothing,” Kobra said. He had a thousand-mile stare stuck on his face as he looked into his lap.

They were back at the Oblivion, sitting in the lobby with games and snacks, as promised. Ghoul’s head was finally clearing up properly, thanks to Nurse Joy giving him an oxygen tank and a stern smack on the head. Jet was back to reading up on chess, mostly unaffected by the shit they’d smoked only a few hours ago. Ghoul made a mental note to ask him about it later.

Dr. D made a noise of disapproval as he looked them over.

“I know you needed to loosen up a bit,” he said, crossing his arms. “But what if something had happened? You realize how bad of an idea it was for you all to get high like that, right? One of you should’ve stayed sober.”

“I tried,” Ghoul said, lying through his teeth. “Getting secondhand from that stuff is almost as bad as firsthand.”

“Well, either way, you’re back,” Dr. D sighed. “Nurse Joy said soon.”

Ghoul shifted in his seat and watched the door. He was impatient. He wanted them to be done, for it to be all okay and not stressful anymore. But he still had to wait. He still had to watch Nurse Joy casually walk back and forth between the OR door and the lobby. Ghoul took the oxygen mask off and twisted the valve on the tank to turn it off. He propped his feet up and decided to nap. There was nothing better to do.

He dreamed, for once not about something horrifying or catastrophic. He was nowhere again, like when he was high as fuck and oozing through the desert floor. Poison was there too, not nearly as strange-looking as before.

“Ghoul!” Poison shouted and ran (he had legs, Ghoul noticed) to meet Ghoul in a hug. He threw his arms and legs around him and held tight. “Where did you go before?”

“What?” Ghoul was surprised they hadn’t toppled over. “Before?”

“You were here before, you fell from the sky,” Poison explained, tucking his face in Ghoul’s neck. “I was here, you were here, both here together.”

“I- I was high, I think,” Ghoul said, and looked up to the sky, white like everywhere else, trying to see where he’d fallen from. “You looked beautiful.”

“Did I?” Poison curled his toes. Ghoul didn’t know how he knew that, but he did. “I thought I was always beautiful. Am I only beautiful when you’re high?”

“No,” Ghoul scoffed. What a dumb question.

It was only a question, something said in Ghoul’s head. Was it Poison? Yes.

“Why are you here?” Ghoul asked, worrying that he was still sort of high.

“I’m asleep, I’m dreaming, dreaming of you.”

“Why am I here?”

“I asked you to come back, to see me again.”

“Isn’t this my dream?”

“You wish.”

“Why is it all white here?”

“Haven’t figured that out yet.”

“Let’s make something.”

A cactus rose from the ground, red and blue.

“Why isn’t it green?” Poison asked, making it green.

“I wasn’t thinking of a color.”

Ghoul was shaken awake suddenly, Jet’s happy face greeting him.

“Hey, Nurse Joy said they were finishing up. He won’t wake up till tomorrow morning, but we’ll get to visit him anyway.” Jet spoke just a little too fast for Ghoul’s tired brain. 

“Thanks,” Ghoul huffed, sitting up and cursing his idea to sleep in a chair. Idiot. He’d totally forgotten his dream now, too.

They waited only a little while longer before the doctor came out, looking about as tired as everyone else, and told them Poison was being moved to a room and then they could see him. Ghoul was first in line to see him, pillow tucked under his arm and blanket over his shoulder.

The room Poison was in now was far less medical-looking. There was still some machines monitoring everything, but this time there were none keeping him alive. He was doing that all on his own. His legs were there now, and they looked slightly different. Longer maybe? They looked better, more suited for his proportions.

“They fit like a glove,” the doctor said as they quietly entered the room. “The models haven’t change that much over the years apparently. He’s expected to make a full recovery with us.”

The doctor quietly pointed out certain things that indicated the better fit, just because Jet and Ghoul were so damn curious. There were stretch marks on Poison’s hips because the joints that had been there before were too big, his spine, before having a slight irregularity, was straight now due to the proper disk being replaced, his arms could fully extend with the newly replaced elbow joints- a myriad of fixes made for the promise of massive improvement of his quality of life. 

Another such fix, the doctor pointed out, was the vocal processor. Poison’s original one had been damaged many times because of the abuse he suffered, and while G3R-1000’s had also been damaged the doctor was able to salvage parts from both to repair Poison’s. He’d sound more like himself, is what the doctor said. Tune-ups were made elsewhere to make sure things ran and recovered smoothly; new tubing, fresh coolant, reinforced inner plating- he’d last at least eighty more years.

Ghoul and Jet found this shit fascinating, but the doctor stopped when they both kept passing a yawn between them. It was late and they all should sleep, he said.

As the others left, Ghoul situated himself on the shitty hotel couch and curled up under the moonlight. He’d stay there and hold down the fort, as it were.

The night was sort of cold as Ghoul fell asleep, his sight mixing in a weird swirl of colors until white bled through into everything. He found himself sitting next to the cactus he’d made earlier, instantly remembering his previous dream.

“There you are,” Poison huffed. Ghoul turned around to see him making rose bushes with vibrantly colored petals. “You blinked out and made me fall and hurt my ass.”

“Sorry, I woke up.” Ghoul stood and walked to the rose bushes.

“I figured. This place is so cool.” Poison poked a finger into a blank rose and it turned bright yellow. “I can make anything here.”

“So can I, did you see my cactus?” Ghoul pointed. The cactus was flowering proudly.

“I did!” Poison clapped as it grew taller into a Joshua Tree, then into a taller tree with no name. Poison decided they’d call it Joshua. “She’s beautiful.”

“She is.” Ghoul looked to the rose bushes. “What’s his name?”

“Emily.” Poison painted another flower, orange this time.

“That’s a good name.”

Poison stared at the bushes for a while, then turned to Ghoul and asked, “are we both here right now?”

“What a silly question, of course we are,” Ghoul said, dragging a hand across the ground and making grass grow. “I’m dreaming right now, and you are too. We must be sharing a space.”

“Isn’t that a legend?” Poison watched his thoughts mix into a bowl of ice cream. “Lovers that can share dreams?”

“Who cares?” Ghoul watched pink embarrassment drip out of his abdomen, scrambling to clean it up. “Don’t say that again.”

“Lovers?” Poison teased, giggling as the pink poured from Ghoul. “Would you like to be?”

“I-I don’t-” Ghoul made himself a scarf and tied it around his middle. “Stop that.”

“Eat this,” Poison said, holding out a rose. “It’s cherry flavor.”

Ghoul took a petal and ate it. It was cherry flavor.

Poison watched the flower regrow its petal.

“This dream is so weird.” Ghoul kicked a rock he made. “Have you been dreaming lately?”

“All the time,” Poison answered, dropping the flower and hugging Ghoul. “I dream of this place or of driving through the desert or of flying over Battery City and exploding like a bomb, leveling the place.”

“That’s not very fun,” Ghoul said into Poison’s hair. “I don’t really dream much anymore.”

“That’s a lie, I can hear it.”

“It is a lie. I’ve had nightmares until the first time I was here. I watched you get hurt or die or something similar. I hated it. This is much better.” He ran a hand through Poison’s hair and sighed.

“It is much better,” Poison agreed, pulling Ghoul down to lay in the grass and flowers they’d made. “Let’s make some stars, they’re my favorite.”

“I don’t know what they’re supposed to look like,” Ghoul said, looking up to the sky and trying to remember what they looked like.

“Just point and make them,” Poison instructed, doing so himself. He made three stars and painted the sky around them dark blue. “It’s easy to make them. They don’t have to be correct.”

Ghoul painted the sky while Poison made stars. He tried to differentiate the color a bit, adding pink here and there, throwing in purple, mixing black. It ended up looking gorgeous. The place they’d made together in this little space in their shared dream was growing to be somewhere so incredibly calming and safe. Ghoul flicked a finger and made a shooting star. Poison gasped.

“Do that again!” Poison sat up and stared at the sky as Ghoul did it again and again. “That’s beautiful, do they do that in real life?”

“Sometimes.” Ghoul watched the wonder on Poison’s face, it glowed gold. “Not often though. Better enjoy it while I’m doing it.”

“I am.”

He watched the shooting stars for a while before suddenly tackling Ghoul. He just watched Ghoul’s face for a minute, imagining the shooting stars reflected in his eyes.

“Are you filling my eyes with stars?” Ghoul asked.

“Maybe. Why? Does it hurt?”

“No. I can see them, though.”

“Sorry.” Poison kissed him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ghoul woke with a start, looking around and clutching at his chest while his heart beat like crazy. What just happened? He didn’t feel like he’d just had a nightmare, though his body was acting like he had. The room was still dark, but there was a warm glow of the coming sunrise behind the distant mountains. Ghoul felt very well rested, so he got up to find breakfast.

The lobby was dark, Nurse Joy wasn’t up yet. The others must have still been asleep too. He stole a box of cereal and made his way back to Poison’s room. He munched on that until he felt tired again, then went back to sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When he came back to the dreamscape, the flowers were blooming even more, the sky was filled with even more stars, the tree was singing to no one, the grass was expanding, spreading. Poison was rolling around on the floor, cursing himself.

“Idiot!” His face was red with embarrassment. He froze when he saw Ghoul. “Oh! You’re-”

“Wait, did we-”

“-back!”

“-kiss?”

Poison turned red again. He got up and stood awkwardly by the flowering rose bush.

“Did you kiss me?”

“I think I did.”

“You think?”

“I did!” Poison stomped his foot suddenly, and the earth cracked beneath him. He covered his face. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s just a dream,” Ghoul said, and bit his tongue after. “Fuck, wait-”

Poison looked sad, and the flowers wilted.

“No, I didn’t mean like that, I just-”

The flowers bled their colors out onto the ground.

“Stop, I meant like, it wasn’t- I’m fucking this up.”

“You are,” Poison said quietly, though he looked amused.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t know how I meant it. I don’t know why I said it.” Ghoul walked over and hugged Poison.

“I guess it’s okay. But you know what’ll make up for it?”

Ghoul kissed him.

Then, he was gone. Ghoul figured this was what it was like when he woke up. He looked at the rose bushes and they blushed at him. Then he realized what this meant and scrambled to wake himself up.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Ghoul opened his eyes having remembered half of what happened in his dream, remembering white space and beautiful stars. He blinked tiredly through the light shining through the window and heard stirring from the bed.

Poison was waking up, rubbing his face and grumbling.

“P, you’re awake,” Ghoul said, getting up and stretching his legs.

“At what fucking cost,” Poison whined dramatically, wincing away from the light. “I’m still so tired, am I on drugs?”

“Probably,” Ghoul said, looking at the IV next to the bed. “Morphine I’d expect.”

“Not enough,” Poison huffed, tapping the call button. “Stomach hurts.”

“Hey,” Ghoul said excitedly, tapping Poison’s foot. His new foot. “Didja see?”

“Oh shit!” Poison shouted, smiling wildly at his legs. He lifted the blanket and stared at the mostly untouched skin that wrapped them. “Would you look at that?”

Ghoul did, peaking under the blanket and doing a little goofy “ooh” as he looked at the diagonal stitching across Poison’s midsection.

Nurse Joy came in then, smiling at them.

“You called?” She walked to the side of the bed and checked some of the machines.

“Yeah, can I have some more of that good stuff that makes the hurty go away?” Poison clasped his hands together, begging. “My tummy hurts.”

“Sure,” she giggled, pressing a button twice to add more morphine. “Should work soon, but we can’t give you more than that. You can actually form a dependency now, or even an addiction.”

The smile fell from Poison’s face, replaced with horror.

“I know, isn’t that fun?” Nurse Joy patted his arm. “I’ll bring food soon. You need it now.”

“I have a terrible feeling that I’m about to feel a lot more human than I wanted to,” Poison said, feeling his sore stomach twist in hunger. “Oh god.”

Ghoul had to laugh, just a little.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Recovery started week three, when the doctor cleared him to start walking around. Those three weeks had been very volatile. There were days where Poison would be just fine; talking, laughing, eating normally. Then, there were days where he wouldn’t feel his legs, or he couldn’t eat anything because his stomach hurt, or everything hurt so much that he had to get a dose of morphine. The next day he would be fine. It wasn’t quite touch-and-go, but it was difficult. But, after those three weeks, the last week being especially steady in his recovery, Poison was allowed to walk around and start physical therapy. Which basically only consisted of Poison leaning on someone while stumbling around the halls. They didn’t have any physical therapists in the zones, they only had one real doctor after all.

Ghoul happily volunteered to be the person Poison leaned on, only giving up the position to Kobra or Jet when he needed sleep or food or something. Otherwise, he was always at Poison’s side, helping him down the hall or to the bathroom or to the lobby to sit with everyone or to the dining room to eat with everyone. They were there now, finally eating dinner as a group again.

“So, sorry if this sounds ignorant, but,” Jet started around a bite of food, “how come they don’t just… Work?”

“I don’t know,” Poison said, shrugging. “They just don’t, I guess.”

“Droids are pretty human, even if BLI don’t want them to be,” Dr. Death said from the head of the table. “They tend to develop human behaviors, emotions, brain functions- BLI never thought about how their tech could evolve. They only thought about makin’ money. Bit them in the ass…”

“How long until you’re supposed to be able to move around by yourself?” Show Pony asked. They looked much better as of late, having finally been able to sleep, no longer having bags under their eyes.

“Nurse Joy said about two months.”

“Fuck, seriously?” Kobra butted in, choking slightly on his soda.

“Yeah, but she said I can go home in a week.” Poison took the glass of water being held out for him by Ghoul.

“One week? Already?” Show Pony bit their lip. “Are they sure that early?”

“I’ve been banned from driving for a year, they’re giving me crutches, and a panic button that’s basically Life Alert. I’ll be fine.” Poison rolled his eyes as he took a sip of water. His stomach twinged and he winced.

“You okay?” Ghoul asked instantly.

“Yeah, stomach ache…” Poison set the water down and sat back in his chair, grumpy. He’d only gotten a few bites of his food. Having a stomach that worked more realistically was stupid. It wanted food, but when he ate it yelled at him like he’d done something wrong. 

“Do you want a pain pill?” Ghoul asked, already reaching into his glorified nurse’s bag.

“I guess so. I need to eat.”

Ghoul handed him the pill and he took it with water, wincing as his stomach tightened. It was bad enough that he had to relearn how to walk, but now he had to learn how to eat too. He waited a few minutes before attempting to eat again, humming happily when his stomach didn’t protest. Ghoul smiled next to him, small enough that no one saw.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The studio became one of Poison’s favorite places. It had been only two months since he got home, yet he was already feeling like a prisoner in the radio station. He’d tried taking walks around outside, but Show Pony got anxious when he walked too far out, and making Show Pony anxious was the last thing he wanted to do. So, he stayed close. The other issue was the weather; lately it had been raining and cold out, and the doctor told him to avoid getting his stitches wet just yet. The upside was that Ghoul finally didn’t have to help him around with every little thing anymore. Poison was making sure that he got enough sleep, seeing as he was so worried and stressed the last two months.

There were some days where it felt like his brain just wasn’t connecting to his lower half, like it wasn’t his and he was having trouble controlling it. Those days, he’d lay in bed and read or listen to music or make Jet play him at chess or talk with Ghoul. Kobra didn’t like hanging out with him, or so he assumed. He wasn’t around much. Fixing cars with the Sisters was his new hobby, and Poison decided to respect that rather than get territorial. If a Killjoy wanted to be around another gang, it only made them stronger in the end.

But the studio, the recording studio, was Poison’s new favorite place of the week. He started by sitting in on Dr. D’s broadcasts, sometimes joining him on the air to let everyone know how he was doing. Ghoul told him he loved when he did that, so he started to do it more. He talked and talked about his experience at the Oblivion, how well everything went, how well he was doing. He’d leave out the icky parts, the transfusions that still had to be done for the safety of making sure the legs took, the check ups where he had to get opened up again, the nights where he’d go stiff and not be able to move. He figured people didn’t want to hear the bad. So he told them about how good he was doing and eventually he started talking about music. Dr. D had a huge collection of music on records and CDs and cassettes.

Poison had always liked music, listened to it mostly in the car on cassettes and CDs, but what he started realizing was that he wasn’t really hearing what he wanted to. He would listen to things and find them nice, amazing maybe, genius even, but there would be something missing. Something he couldn’t parse.

Ghoul had noticed him taking this interest, and was fucking ecstatic. He didn’t dare say a word about it, not until the one night he found the “recording in progress” sign lit up over the door of the studio.

It was midnight or later, and Ghoul had been getting water from the fridge in the front room. He walked into the room and saw the red glow of the sign shining down the other hall. He peeked down the hall and saw a hint of movement in the recording studio. Creeping slowly down the hall, he let himself smile as he saw a flash of red hair.

Inside the studio, Ghoul saw as he looked slowly over the edge of the window, Poison was arranging papers torn from one of Dr. D’s notebooks. He laid them out on a music stand and stood in front of a microphone, picking up headphones from the stand. He looked like he took a deep breath before putting the headphones on, then began to sing. Ghoul couldn’t hear, and cursed the universe for it. He looked to the door and cursed the universe again. Poison would notice if he opened the door, it was too close to him. So, instead, Ghoul watched him move his mouth silently behind the glass. He imagined the sound of his voice and knew it would never match up.

Ghoul was about to turn around and go back to bed until Poison looked to sigh and turned around, getting startled by Ghoul. He took off the headphones and crossed the small distance between the music stand and the door, throwing it open.

“Ghoul?” He said, cheeks pink.

“Sorry,” Ghoul said, standing up. “I promise I couldn’t hear anything, the glass is sound proof.”

“That’s… That’s okay, actually, I wanted to, uh…” Poison wrung his hands. “I wanted you to listen to it and see what’s missing, actually.”

Ghoul stared for a moment, then snapped out of it and said, “sure! Of course!”

Poison pulled him into the room by an elbow and shut the door behind him. The headphones were put over his ears and before being able to ask what he was doing, Poison began to sing into the mic. Soft at first, like he was embarrassed or worried or anxious, then clearer, bolder, louder.

Ghoul listened deeply to the lyrics, pressing the headphones closer to his ears.

 

_When the lights go out, will you take me with you_  
_And carry all this broken bone_  
_Through six years down in crowded rooms_  
_And highways I call home?_  
_It’s something I can’t know ‘til now_  
_‘Til you pick me off the ground_  
_With a brick in hand, your lip-gloss smile_  
_Your scraped up knees_

 

His heart twisted as he listened, closing his eyes. It was somewhat haunting without any other kinds of music, just an echoing voice calling out to no one…

 

_And if you stay, I would even wait all night_  
_Or until my heart explodes_  
_How long until we find out way_  
_In the dark and out of harm?_  
_You can run away with me anytime you want_

 

Poison stopped then, turning around to look for Ghoul’s reaction. And his reaction was to stare back, taken with Poison’s voice, his lyrics, just- everything about him. It was all too much suddenly, flooding into his head like a dam had burst. He scrambled to find something to say, something that could express how amazing he found this beautiful person he’d had the pleasure of spending even a moment of time with. Maybe he was really tired, but that only made his emotions more intense.

As he reached out a hand slowly, Poison took it, not really knowing what was happening but open to finding out.

Both of them remembered their dreams suddenly. The flowers, the stars, the tree, the grass, the kisses.

Ghoul looked at their hands. Perfectly clean tan skin met scarred tattooed skin, each tightly holding the other. Poison watched Ghoul’s face carefully as they got closer.

“Did you like it?” Poison asked, so fucking quiet.

“Yes,” Ghoul said, just as quietly. “Your voice is amazing.”

“Thank you.” Poison was watching Ghoul’s lips as he spoke.

“I think it needs other stuff though,” Ghoul said, resting an unsure hand on Poison’s side.

“Other stuff?” Poison raised an eyebrow.

“Guitar, drums- backbone of music is drums and bass. Guitar can add extra character and feeling.”

“Can you play the guitar?” Poison let go of Ghoul’s hand and hooked both of his behind Ghoul’s head.

“I can,” Ghoul said, getting close. “Jet can too, probably better than me.”

“We’ll see,” Poison said.

They kissed. Ghoul almost gasped at the feeling, realizing that the dreams had been just that: dreams. Nothing could compare to the real thing, the real Party Poison. Dreams didn’t have truthful senses, he never knew the tiny details. He did now. Poison tasted like sweat and bubble gum. Ghoul recalled that he chewed that shit like it had killed his family, annoying to the point of even Jet asking him to close his damn mouth. Their kiss was slow and tentative and unsure at times.

Poison was freaking out inside. He’d never kissed anyone, not really. The dreams were a thing, but clearly not anything like the real thing. He was thinking way too much about what to do with his lips, was way too worried about where his hands should be, how long he should stay where. 

As soon as the kiss started to deepen, all that flew right out the window, and Poison felt his brain flip off the anxiety switch and flip on the “what the fuck is going on” switch. He couldn’t totally understand what was happening, and soon he realized it was because he wasn’t breathing and he needed to do that now and oh god his lungs were burning and was Ghoul’s tongue in his mouth-

Poison broke away (not too far) and took a sharp, shaky breath. He opened his apparently closed eyes and saw spots.

“Sorry,” Ghoul chuckled, hugging him tighter. “I got carried away, I’m sorry.”

Poison shook his head slightly, smiling as he caught his breath.

“You just wanted help with the song, we should do that.”

“Sure,” Poison said, nodding slightly. “But promise me we’ll do what we just did again sometime.”

“Making out?”

Poison made a face and said, “I guess. Is that what it’s called?”

“Jet calls it swapping spit.” Ghoul smiled.

“Ew!” Poison grimaced. “That’s awful, don’t ever call it that.”

Ghoul laughed and tucked his face into Poison’s neck.

“Seriously, if you ever call it ‘swapping spit’ again I’m going to vomit.”

“Is that a threat?” Ghoul said against Poison’s shoulder.

“A promise.”

“Aw, cute,” Ghoul teased. He felt so fucking happy right now.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They did eventually get back to the song, and Ghoul even suggested some things to consider as the backing tracks. He recorded a little bit of guitar for it and eventually they were both tired and decided to head to bed.

The next morning, it was like they were keeping a secret. It felt silly to treat it like that, but Poison couldn’t help but get nervous around Show Pony or Dr. Death. It even got to the point where Show Pony was looking to Ghoul for answers when Poison would trip over his words or get pink in the face when he looked at the studio.

Show Pony cornered Ghoul in the kitchen at some point that day, catching him while he was making coffee.

“So,” Show Pony started, leaning on the counter next to the coffee maker.

Ghoul froze as he was pouring water into the machine.

“What are you two hiding?”

“Us two? Who?” Ghoul looked to them with wide, innocent eyes.

“You and Poison.” Show Pony crossed their arms.

“And what about us? We’re hiding something?” Ghoul turned back to making coffee. By all accounts, he was acting normal. But Show Pony could see each tiny calculated movement, each controlled breath.

“You are. Something happened last night, I know it.”

“You know it?” Ghoul smiled slightly. “What do you know?”

“I know that something happened in the studio,” Show Pony said, frowning. “Poison keeps acting weird around it and avoiding it.”

“Hm, that sounds weird.” Ghoul pushed the button to start the machine brewing coffee. “But what’s that got to do with me? You should ask him about it.”

“It’s got everything to do with you…” Show Pony watched him walk to the cupboard.

“Why do you think that?”

“I don’t think, I know.” Show Pony was using their “no bullshit” voice but Ghoul was clearly amused.

“Well, return with evidence and we’ll see what you know.” Ghoul filled a mug with coffee, held it up for a moment, then left the kitchen.

Show Pony had a mission now. They went straight to the studio after that and found Dr. D and Poison talking in the hallway. As they hid behind the wall and listened in on their conversation, the mystery deepened…

“I just wanted to know if you knew how to, uh, make songs,” Poison said quietly.

“I do,” Dr. D said slowly. “Are you wanting to make one?”

“Maybe…” Poison looked down at his feet. “I have ideas for stuff, I just don’t know how to make it happen.”

“Well, tell me about your ideas and I’ll see what I can do,” Dr. Death said as he waved for Poison to follow him into the studio.

Show Pony watched intently as he hesitated a moment, then followed and shut the door quickly. So, he was making music. Show Pony was about to admit they were wrong about Ghoul being involved until Ghoul made his appearance in the hallway, humming something Show Pony had never heard before. Dr. D only had so vast a collection of music, and they were sure they’d heard just about everything from it. Ghoul had to be involved, Show Pony decided again. If that was a song Poison was working on, and Ghoul knew it, he had to be involved and they were hiding something.

This escalated as one would expect: hilariously. Show Pony started by searching the studio for demos that night, but found nothing. The next day, they sneaked over to the studio door and held their ear to the crack under the door, trying to hear anything behind it. This proved to be a bad idea only because they got there at the wrong time and were caught by Dr. D and thankfully not Poison.

“The hell are you doing?” Dr. Death asked, more amused than anything as he swung the door open and watched Show Pony scramble up from the ground.

“Nothing, I lost something, I wasn’t doing anything,” Show Pony blurted out, brushing off their clothes. “What are you doing?”

“You’ve been acting weird,” Dr. D said, wheeling out from the studio and down the hall. “Wanna tell me what’s wrong? Why are you trying to eavesdrop on my studio?”

Show Pony huffed, but followed him anyway.

“I have reason to believe that Party Poison has been making music.” Show Pony stood with their hands on their hips, confident.

Dr. D turned around and stared at them.

“So what if he has been?” Dr. D crossed his arms mockingly.

“Well- then he should tell me! Why is he keeping it a secret? And what does Ghoul have to do with it?!” Show Pony started pacing, glaring intently at the ground as they did.

“They’ve been acting so weird since a couple nights ago and if Poison is keeping secrets then-”

“Pony, you been hitting the Sisters’ bong again?” Dr. D interrupted with an amused face. “You been sleeping? It’s been real stressful for everyone, I know how much you worry about them all. Are you okay?”

“I’m- what? I’m fine!” Show Pony felt their eye twitch as they shouted and realized that they may not be fine after all.

“Pony,” Dr. Death said gently. “Come here, okay?”

They did, taking slow steps before crumpling in on themself and covering their face.

“Take a seat.”

Show Pony sat on his lap and rubber their face, frustrated.

“I just-” Show Pony felt their eyes sting but refused to cry. “I just want to make sure he’s okay. It seems like him and Ghoul did something, and I just want to make sure that they’re- I don’t know, safe? I’m-”

“Worried,” Dr. D finished, rubbing circles on their back.

“Worried. I’m worried about it. I don’t know why.”

“I do, you’re stressed out from everything that’s happened.” Dr. D patted Show Pony’s leg. “You treat them like your kids, you can’t help but feel hurt when they don’t tell you things. I know the feeling.”

Show Pony peeked at him through their fingers. They felt guilty suddenly.

“You worry me too,” Dr. D said, taking off his sunglasses. “I care about you like you’re my kid, too. I don’t like when my kids don’t tell my why they’re stressed out or worried or hurt or scared. It makes me stressed out or worried or hurt or scared.”

“I’m sorry,” Show Pony sighed, resting their head on his shoulder. “I just wanted to get to the bottom of things.”

“Well,” Dr. D said, looking around strangely. “I can tell you, but you have to promise not to say anything.”

Show Pony perked up suddenly, hungry for information.

“I must emphasize the need to not say anything,” Dr. D said with a tone of warning.

Show Pony nodded hungrily, smiling.

“Don’t say anything about it to him or anyone else.”

They nodded faster.

“Not a word.”

More nodding.

“Or a peep.”

Dr. D worried their head would fall off with their intense nodding.

“Okay…”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Alright everyone, welcome to the last hour of the broadcast. I know today’s is a bit shorter than usual, but I have some things to tend to at the Oblivion with Party Poison this evening, so we have to peace out in a little while. But, of course, before we go we wanted to share something truly special with all of you. Something the zones haven’t done or been able to do since Telekinetic Scam. That’s right, we have new music, right out of the oven, freshly recorded and mastered for this broadcast. Don’t lose your heads, not just yet, because we have a few words to share before that. Party Poison will take the floor, since it is his song…”

“Thanks, Death… I, uh- well, I’m really nervous to have this on the air. I’ve been working on it for a couple weeks with Dr. D and a few of the other Killjoys… I had been listening to Dr. D’s huge collection of music and realized that I didn’t want to just listen to music anymore, I wanted to make it. I wanted to make something no one had ever heard before. I wanted to share a feeling, a moment, a unique idea with people. And I was just about the luckiest droid in the zones to have two guitar players and a masterful mixer in the house of my recovery.”

“You flatter me.”

“Rightfully! This song started out as a confused mixture of sounds I wanted to hear and things I wanted to say, and it’s turned into something absolutely beautiful, I think.”

“What a nice way to preface this song. Tell us about the name.”

“I couldn’t think of one for a long time. I had such a hard time thinking of what to call it. For a while I wanted to- ah hell, this is embarrassing… I wanted to use the name of the person who inspired it, but I just couldn’t bring myself to- to, I don’t know, out them like that? I figured it would be better to just call it something else. I agonized over the name for hours and eventually it was the person who inspired the song who came up with the name. They said they chose this name because it was the feeling the guitar solo in the bridge reminded them of. I couldn’t agree more, when they said that. So, this song is called Summertime.”

“By our very own zoner, favorite droid and household- or, well, camp-hold name, Party Poison, here is: Summertime.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The song carried over the radio in the Transistor Sisters’ garage. The drums drove the song into it’s first verse, the guitar instantly recognizable to Kobra as something Jet and Ghoul had been practicing when he’d visited. The Sisters in the room stopped what they were doing to listen as Poison’s voice echoed through the room.

Kobra stared at the radio. He was suddenly overcome with an intense feeling of guilt. He listened intently as the song morphed into a beautiful guitar solo, echoing and melancholy. Ghetta and Honey watched him with small smiles.

As Poison sang woefully and ended the song, Kobra was already gathering his things into his bag.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Once again, that was Summertime, by the zones’ own Party Poison of the fabulous Killjoys. Now, that’s our last song today. Party Poison has left the studio to go pack up his things for his appointment, and I need to do the same. But before I go, one last thing for a certain Killjoy who’s been playing hookie at family meetings: avoiding him isn’t going to make you feel better. We all went through shit, and he misses you so much I can see it on his face. Don’t cause him more heartache, you’re like a brother to him. You miss him too, don’t pretend like you don’t have feelings. Working on cars and such is fine, but you’re actively avoiding us and I don’t take kindly to that kind of behavior. We’re a family out here. You’re a part of it. Now come home, Kobra Kid.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Poison’s room was a damn mess, had been since he got back. Show Pony had cleaned it while he was at the Oblivion, but it was a pipe dream to think it would stay that way. Poison was throwing clothes into a duffel bag and cursing himself for losing his only good copy of Doom Patrol Vol 1. He wanted to take it with to lend to Nurse Joy, since she was so interested in it whenever he talked about the series. 

He was so lost in thought (and many piles of clothes and books) that he almost didn’t hear someone knock on his door frame.

“Hey,” Ghoul said, coming over to kneel next to Poison.

“Oh, hey, sorry,” Poison said, looking at him a moment before going back to searching through the pile in front of him. “Have you seen my Doom Patrol volume one? I wanted to lend it to Joy.”

“Right here,” Ghoul said, reaching under the desk and pulling the volume from under a pair of jeans.

“Oh! Thank you.” Poison took it and stood back up, shoving the book in his bag. “I have to go, are you coming with?”

“I can, not like we’re doing much else around here…” Ghoul stood too, moving to be next to him. “Hey.”

Poison turned to him, still thinking about how much time they had and how soon they should be leaving and what he should be bringing and- and Ghoul kissed him and those thoughts froze in place, even if only for a moment.

“Sorry,” Ghoul said, smiling. “Your head’s all over the place.”

“It is,” Poison said, blinking before hugging Ghoul tightly around the middle and lifting him up.

“Hey! Put me down, asshole!”

“No!” Poison laughed, spinning once then sitting on the edge of his shitty bed.

Ghoul caught himself against Poison’s chest, huffing angrily before sitting up and finding himself straddling Poison’s lap.

“Sorry.” Poison hugged him closer. “That was cheesy.”

“It was.”

“Did you hear the song?”

“I did,” Ghoul said, relaxing again and remembering why he’d come here. “I actually came here to tell you that I’m really proud of you for doing that.”

“What?”

“Putting that on the radio, sharing something personal like that with everyone. Also, it’s a really good song and your voice is incredible.” Ghoul kissed his cheek.

“Aw shucks,” Poison said, half mockingly. His face went pink. “I mean, we worked so hard on it, it would be a waste not to play it…”

Ghoul kept kissing his face, quick pecks that were just enough to make Poison blush more.

“Ghoul, we have to leave soon,” Poison said, but he wasn’t listening to himself, because Ghoul had just moved lower and kissed his jaw and he forgot what anything sounded like for a second.

“Lame,” Ghoul whispered against Poison’s jaw. He did lean back though, knowing that Poison could get easily overwhelmed with physical contact and affection. “Are you packed?”

“I think so,” Poison said slowly, blinking and shaking his head slightly. “Uh, I think I still need underwear.”

“Oh well I refuse to touch your underwear,” Ghoul said, laughing and getting up. “It’s three days, right? The check up?”

“Yeah.” Poison stood up and went to his closet. “The doctor said he had to check the progress and all the fluids and stuff. Plus he thinks I’ll need another transfusion.”

“Aw, I’m sorry.” Ghoul put a hand on Poison’s arm. He knew how much needles freaked him out.

“It’ll be fine, I’ve done it before,” Poison said, but his voice was already uneasy as he thought about it.

Just then they heard the door to the station open loudly. It made Poison and Ghoul’s shoulders tighten, their hands freeze, they breath hitch.

“Poison?” Kobra called from the front room, and the tension melted from them. 

Poison ran out to meet him. He had a bag slung over his shoulder, it looked heavy.

“Hey…” Kobra stood awkwardly and dropped his bag. “I, uh, heard you were going back to the Oblivion for stuff and… I heard your song on the radio.”

“You did?” Poison’s face lit up. He’d just been staring, unsure of what to do or say.

“I did. I was helping the Sisters with repairs and we all heard it on the radio.” Kobra stepped forward, rubbing his neck. “And I realized that I’ve kind of been being a dick.”

Poison didn’t say anything, but smiled slightly.

“I got really, uh… I got scared when you were in that crash, and then everything just kept getting worse for you. I… To be honest, I could hardly handle being reminded of it. When I pulled you from the car, I almost…”

“Hey,” Poison said, stepping forward and hugging Kobra. “Stop. You didn’t do anything on purpose. You helped save my life.”

Kobra didn’t trust his voice anymore, so he just hugged Poison back and hid his face in his shoulder.

“I understand that you needed space. I gave you space, I hoped you’d come back on your own. I was kind of worried that it took so long, but I’m so happy you came back.”

Kobra nodded, feeling like shit for having make Poison worry.

“We’re heading out soon, I have to stay there three days so I was just packing. Once Dr. D and Show Pony get the car ready, we’ll go.”

Kobra nodded and stepped back, wiping his eyes.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Kobra said, voice only slightly strained. “Sorry I made you worry.”

“You have time to make up for it,” Ghoul said, coming into the room.

“Ghoul, shit, I’m sorry, I-”

“Shut up.” Ghoul hugged him and then went out the front door to the car.

“What he means is, he forgives you,” Poison said, rolling his eyes. “Let’s go, I don’t want to be late.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

God it felt good to be behind the wheel again. Sure, he wasn’t racing, he had promised Ghoul he wouldn’t race anymore, but it just felt good to be driving again. Poison liked the wind in his hair, the dust that flew around the car. His favorite time to drive was sunset, it turned everything golden.

Poison had taken some convincing to stop racing. The Sisters were ready to accept him back into their racing team, but Ghoul had pleaded that he reconsider. After a few weeks, curt arguments, and eventually a heated make out session, Poison reconsidered.

“I love you, stupid,” Ghoul had growled into his mouth. “I want you to keep those new perfect legs and that hollow head on your shoulders.”

Poison’s head had been swimming in the moment, but later he agreed to stop racing altogether. He settled for taking weekly joyrides in the trans am. It was one of his favorite things to do. With the competition taken out of it, he could just enjoy driving too fast and feeling the wind and dirt on his face.

On a particularly clear day, when the sunset was particularly bright and made everything that much more beautiful, shining gold, Poison invited Ghoul for a drive. Ghoul was more comfortable with cars now, able to get in one like it was nothing, but driving fast was still hard for him. Poison drove slower than usual and pointedly toward something.

“Where are we going?” Ghoul asked, momentarily focusing on something other than breathing carefully.

“A big rock, good for sittin’ on,” Poison said, smiling absently as he made sure they didn’t hit any rocks or plants as they drove between roads instead of on them.

“A big rock,” Ghoul echoed, sighing. “Okay.”

“Hey, it’s a nice rock, don’t disrespect her.”

“Sorry,” Ghoul laughed.

They drove until the sun was leaving them, letting the blue and purple settle over the desert in its golden absence. Nighttime in the zones was a godsend, the usual heat slowly stripping away to leave cooled air and warm ground. Poison loved the juxtaposition of the two. Which is why he was excited to visit a newly found spot he liked to stargaze at: a large boulder, far off from the roads, big enough to hold three people comfortably. 

As they drove up, Ghoul glanced at Poison and saw his wide grin. He had a plan, Ghoul realized. Something was planned for the night.

“So,” Ghoul said as they got out of the car. “What are you planning?”

“What? Me? Planning something?” Poison looked overly innocent, putting a hand on his chest and looking around. “I’m not planning anything, sorry to disappoint.”

“Sure…”

Poison helped Ghoul climb up to the top of the boulder and climbed up after him, standing tall and looking up to the stars with wonder in his eyes. Ghoul sat and watched him watch the stars, slowly appearing as the last of the sunlight fell behind the distant mountains. The stars were bountiful and stretched on forever, further than anyone in the zones could see. Ghoul liked them because they always stayed the same, no matter how many shitty things happened. He could always count on the stars. Poison liked them because they sparkled, little pinpricks of light and joy in the vast darkness. No matter how dark things looked, there would always be the stars.

Poison sat down slowly, still watching the stars.

“I wonder if I’ll ever get to see a shooting star in real life,” he said absently. It made Ghoul remember their shared dreams.

“Before the wars,” Ghoul started, scooting closer to Poison, “there were people who could predict them. I read about it in Dr. D’s books, the stuff he saved from before. They would tell everyone when they would happen and everyone would gather to see it happen.”

“I’m jealous,” Poison said, and he sounded sad. “I don’t want to miss a single night, I want to see them one day.”

“We’ll do it, that’s a promise.”

Poison stared and stared at the stars.

“I’d make them for you again if we were asleep.” Ghoul gently took Poison’s hand.

“I’d like that, if I were tired.” Poison turned from the stars and kissed him. 

Kissing Poison never got old, Ghoul thought. It was always a million things all at once. He was always new, always different, but always the same too. Soft, tasting like dust and sweat and coffee. Ghoul had to keep himself from getting too worked up too soon, practically sitting on his hands to keep them from tangling in Poison’s hair. He instead decided to focus on the feeling of Poison’s calloused fingers brushing across his face, pushing his hair back and curling around the back of his neck.

He managed to hold out long enough for Poison to deepen the kiss on his own time, and then Ghoul had to move. He moved his hands from where he’d been pinning them to Poison’s waist, earning a small jump in surprise. Poison pulled back slightly.

“Don’t fucking tickle me,” he said through a sigh, before going back to kissing.

Ghoul would’ve laughed if he wasn’t instantly distracted by the way Poison took his breath away. He was so much more open right now, so confident and sure of his actions. They’d had nights like these before, hidden in one of their rooms, but there was always the fear that someone would hear them or walk in to check on Poison. Out in the desert, even with the vastness and openness, it felt safe and secure. No noise, no worry, no one else around. Just the two of them. Ghoul felt small.

It was Ghoul who had to lean back and break away from the kiss to breathe. Poison followed him, moving to kiss his cheek and jaw.

“The tables turn,” Poison muttered against his skin.

“I’m not complaining,” Ghoul said quietly, taking deep breaths. 

They lost track of time, lost in each other’s mouths and hands and hair. Eventually they started calming down, their kisses winding down to soft pecks across cheeks, hair tugging to combing through, heavy breaths to slow sighs. Ghoul was dizzy. Poison was too. 

As they finally broke apart to have their own space again, Poison looked up to the sky and gasped.

“Oh my god,” Poison said, smiling wide. “Shooting stars.”

Ghoul looked up and sure enough, small streaks of light tore through the spaces between the stars, at one point so bountiful and fast that it looked like glitter pouring through the sky. He watched for a while, then looked to Poison. He was wearing the widest smile ever. If Ghoul looked close he could see the shooting stars reflected in Poison’s eyes. He never wanted to forget this moment.

They must have been out there for hours, Ghoul thought. The shooting stars tapered off eventually, and Ghoul’s eyes felt heavy. Poison wanted to stare at the night sky forever, but when Ghoul started falling asleep on his shoulder he decided it was time to head back.

Ghoul did fall asleep in the car on the drive back, and Poison drove on the streets so as not to wake him up. When they got back to the radio station, however, the lights were on in the lobby. Poison weighed the option of just turning the fuck around, but decided with everything that’s happened in the last year it would be best to just take whatever was coming to him.

He got out of the car and carefully lifted Ghoul from the passenger seat, still asleep. Even though he tried to open the door quietly, Show Pony was sitting in the lobby area on the couch with Dr. Death in front of them. They both looked over when Poison walked in. 

“Where the hell have you two been,” Show Pony said instantly, their voice wavering. “I’ve been so-”

“Poison,” Dr. D said quietly, holding a hand up to Show Pony. “Go ahead to sleep, don’t worry about this.”

Poison looked between them, his chest tightening at the tears on Show Pony’s face. He quickly took Ghoul to his room and all but tucked him in before coming back out to the lobby, where Show Pony and Dr. D were having a strained whispering match.

“They were gone for so long!” Show Pony whispered through fresh tears.

“He told me they’d be a while, they’re both adults, Pony,” Dr. D said while rubbing their knee.

“I can’t handle the anxiety when they leave, what if something happens again?” Show Pony leaned forward to cry into their hands. “He was just out for a night, D, he was out one night and his whole life fell apart!”

“Show Pony,” Poison said, coming over to kneel in front of them.

They kept their face covered, shaking their head slightly.

“You can’t keep getting like this every time they leave the station,” Dr. D said. He felt horrible every time Show Pony came to him in tears, shaking like a leaf, shouting shrilly about “where were the boys where did they go are they okay” while pacing around the office. 

“I just don’t know what to do,” Show Pony sobbed, hugging their knees.

“Hey,” Poison said, rubbing their shoulder. “You can’t be there all the time to make sure we’re safe, but I can promise you that I’ll be more careful. We all will, we have been. I don’t want to worry you like this, but I can’t just stay here all the time.”

Show Pony peeked up at him.

“I hate seeing you like this, it makes me feel horrible. I don’t ever want to cause you stress like this. But the Killjoys need to get back into business, we can’t retire our masks.”

Dr. D looked at him, expression slightly disapproving.

“We need to start being the people Kobra and Jet were, before Ghoul and I. We need to get back out there and show the zones that they have a helping hand if they need one. And I can’t do that from my bedroom.”

Show Pony looked up then. They were a mess, but they started smiling as they wiped their eyes.

“All this shit that’s happened to you,” Show Pony said, hiccuping, “and you can only think of others. What did the zones do to deserve you?”

They put a hand on Poison’s face and rubbed a thumb under his eye.

“Such bright, determined eyes…” Suddenly they sighed. “I guess I don’t have a choice, it’s not like I can tie you down to a pole like a dog. I’ll do my best, honey, but you have to let me know if something goes wrong the second it does.”

“I swear,” Poison said instantly.

“You know,” Dr. D said, tapping his chin. “I think I know where we can get some walkie talkies, long range. That would be a good purchase, don’t you think?”

Show Pony looked at him, surprised at first, then angry.

“You could’ve said that a year ago!” They shouted, smacking him on the head.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The bell on the door to the outpost rang out as Poison and Kobra entered the building. The place had been fixed up a bit since the last time they’d been there, there were new lights strung around the isles and they had more stock. There was also a new installation of thick glass in front of the register.

“Hey,” Kobra said to the owner as he walked up, eying the glass. “Had trouble?”

“Just a couple times, but I’d rather keep my money safe,” the owner said. He had a healing bruise on his face.

“Who was it?” Poison asked, eyes burning as he saw the bruise. “Did they have an emblem? What did their masks look like?”

“Calm down, kid.” The owner chuckled. “I haven’t seen you in a while. You seem well.”

“I’m a lot better,” Poison said, still not willing to fully let go of finding out whoever gave the owner that bruise. “Got some upgrades.”

“You sound different,” the owner said, tilting his head to the side. “Familiar somehow…”

“That’s weird…” Poison got distracted by the new car accessories.

“Oh! That’s who you sound like! Hold on,” the owner said, suddenly excited. “I knew you looked familiar too, oh what fun…”

He got up from his chair and went to the back room. After Kobra and Poison exchanged a glance while listening to lots of shuffling and moving things around, the owner came back with a record in near-mint condition. Kobra’s jaw dropped, and Poison couldn’t fully comprehend what he was seeing. But there it was. His own face on a classic record. What the fuck was going on?

“What the fuck?” Poison said, walking up to the counter.

“What model were you?” The owner ignored his question and took out his record player.

“G-G3R-”

“G-three-R,” the owner said happily. “Gerard Way. I remember learnin’ about those models back when they first rolled them out. ‘The classic artist returns, and you can have him for yourself!’ if I remember correct.”

Poison felt his gut twist confusingly.

“Never did come out with the other members of his band, but the G3R models were so popular that they didn’t have to.” The owner dropped the record onto the player and gently moved the needle to start playing it. “His voice, though, was something else. I don’t know how I didn’t realize it before.”

“My vocal processor was damaged,” Poison muttered as the music started.

“This is one of my favorites,” the owner said, holding up the record cover to point at the song name. “Maya the Psychic.”

Poison watched the record spin as he listened to what was clearly his own voice filled the room. Kobra was looking between the record cover and Poison, himself wondering why he hadn’t realized it. But, Kobra thought, the records they had at the station seldom had covers. Lots of them were just loose records.

As the song came to an end the owner looked satisfied with himself and sat back down behind his register.

“So,” he said, “are you gonna buy anything? I’d love to play my music all day but-”

“Whoa, hold on,” Poison said suddenly, “you can’t just- you can’t just say that and move on! What?! What the fuck?! I’m modeled after a classic rock star?!”

“Yes. Oh, I heard your song on the radio the other day, that’s where I started thinking about it. I almost forgot. That’s a good one, Summertime, was it?”

“Dude,” Kobra said, staring at Poison, “I totally should have noticed.”

Poison rubbed a hand over his face. What the fuck.

“Are you guys okay in here?” Ghoul poked his head into the outpost, concerned with the shouting.

“Poison’s a rock star,” Kobra said, a big stupid smile spreading over his face.

“What?” Ghoul deadpanned.

“We don’t have time for this, we’re here for walkie talkies,” Poison said, desperate.

“Isle ten.” The owner smiled triumphantly.

“He was modeled after Gerard Way!” Kobra shouted, basically hopping over to Ghoul. “The guy who sang in that band and did that sick album!”

“What?” Ghoul’s tone rose. “Wait, what?!”

Poison slammed his head against the box of walkie talkies, willing the universe to put him out of his misery. Why a rock star? Why a classic one from years ago? BLI was determined to ruin his life, specifically, he was sure of it.

They managed to buy the walkie talkies without much more fuss from Kobra and Ghoul. The owner gave them a discount and Poison promised they would keep the place safe if the owner wanted them to.

“Just send us a signal over the radio, we’ll be on our way as soon as possible.” Poison grabbed the box off the counter.

“I think I just might,” the owner shook Poison’s hand through the small hole in the glass. “And by the way, they did have an emblem.”

“What did it look like?” Poison took out a piece of paper to draw it.

“It was a little box with three little posts coming out of it, and behind it there was a crown on top of a tire.” The owner nodded as Poison drew. “There were two of them, both women, and their masks were-”

“Don’t need anything else,” Poison said, dread pouring through him. “I know who they are. Was it the same people each time?”

“Only happened twice, but yes.”

“Fuckin’ Roadrunner… Okay, I promise it won’t ever happen again. Thank you for the discount.”

“Thank you for the business,” the owner sat back in his chair and sighed, turning the music back on as they left.

“The Sisters?” Kobra stared down at the drawing of Royal Roadrunner’s emblem. “Roadrunner and another Sister robbed the place?”

“Wasn’t Roadrunner talking about robbing the outpost when we went and got high with them?” Ghoul asked.

“What?” Poison looked at him.

“Oh fuck, she did say that,” Kobra said.

“You did what?” Poison glared between them as they walked to the car.

Jet had been getting gas and as they walked up he joined their conversation.

“What about the Sisters?” Jet asked, putting the gas pump back.

“Roadrunner and one other Sister robbed the outpost twice in the past few weeks,” Poison said, getting into the driver’s seat. “We have to pay them a visit sometime.”

“Oh shit.” Jet got in the back seat with Ghoul. “Why?”

“Don’t know yet, but for now we have to get back to the station.” Poison fired up the engine as soon as Kobra got in and they drove off.

The day was clear, like most days, nothing in the way of the sun’s unrelenting rays. Dust flew at they drove down the streets. Poison thought about the Killjoys, how they’d grown in numbers and grown weak in practice. He wanted them to become a force for good, almost like cavalry that anyone could call when they were in need. They would need an emblem, he realized. Something strong, striking, and clearly, uniquely Killjoys. He watched the desert shift in the wind as he drove. Dust stirring and settling. He’d think of one.

They ended their day eating at the diner. They even got Dr. Death out of his studio to join the rest of them to eat. Show Pony was overly excited to spend a night together, so excited that they made pancakes for everyone. As they sat together and ate, Poison looked out at the stars as they started peeking through the setting sunshine. He loved the people around him. His life was perfect now. And there was so much to do. He was ready for it.

**Author's Note:**

> Credit to Purple_is_My_Aesthetic for the idea to have Gerard be an actual person in this universe that Poison was modeled after. They thought of that after my other oneshot and I just had to add it here, it made sense and was fun to write. Thank you again! And thanks to ILoveToWatchUGrow for encouraging me to finish this! Your comment made me really happy and made me want to finish this so I could share it with you! I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Please consider leaving a comment! I can take constructive criticism and appreciate typo corrections (this was a bitch to format and I probably missed a lot of stuff). Also when we start conversations, that's always fun! I like having internet friends. :P Also, as always, you can find fic and life updates in my bio on my profile. I update it whenever I think to, usually before I post or if I've been away for a while.
> 
> Thank you again for reading!


End file.
